Boyfriend Swapping
by Princess Tweak
Summary: After three years of perfect bliss, Edward turns to the Personals for inspiration, hoping to keep his FH boyfriend Jasper interested. Will he succeed?  Physician-heal thyself. Multi-chapter fic w/alternating POV. AH, AU. ExJ Slash.
1. The Setup: Holding On by Letting Go

_Authors Note:_ Author Stephenie Meyer inexplicably abandoned the delicious characters **she owns** to their imaginary fates after just four books; thank goodness FF has nimbly stepped in to fill that void. Please think of this story as my slashy valentine for the many wondrous authors who've salved our loss with unique, vivid works that spiral out from the Twi-verse in glorious swaths of creativity, love, and sex.

Do you like boy-on-boy love? If not, or if you are too young to understand the term slash, leave now and find some BellaxEdward fiction better suited to your tastes. Please—don't make me ask you twice. Go, now.

Note: This is not a light-hearted look at an emotional subject. There will be angst combined with as much humor as possible. I always feel cheated if I don't get an HEA. I expect this to be a dark exploration of two imperfect individuals who have all the pieces, but haven't worked-out how they fit together. This is not a hanky-alert (I don't really like tears, myself.) I am using this fic to hone what I understand about this world. It's a subject dear to me and fingers crossed I can handle it with both the sensitivity and the heat it deserves. The CA ruling on gay marriage was also an impetus to writing.

I'm going forward with my plan to include both the present day and the beginning of their relationship in each chapter. In truth, I could probably offer the 'inception' sections as outtakes or a separate story, but it's a device I like at present. If it seems too cumbersome, I'll pull it out and plop in outtake chapters.

Staying? You have been warned: slash ahead.

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* * *

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Boyfriend Swapping—Couples Style

_Chapter One. The Set-up: Holding On by Letting Go_

Jasper was bored. I knew it. I_ felt_ it. The waves of boredom just poured off of him.

My leonine, amazing boyfriend of three years was tired of me. (I nearly wept at the thought.) Or if not exactly _me_, he was tired of the sameness of it all. To be accurate, the _**het**_ monogamy of just us naked in our bed every night. Or so I suspected.

It was like I could read his mind. All I needed was a turban, an 800 number, and a stage name. I cringed, but being known as _Mistress Edward, resident psychic_ would be no less than a fitting punishment for neglecting Jasper's unexpressed needs for more variety.

Sighing, I resolutely began the self-appointed task of skimming the LA Weekly Online Personals. I was looking for random sexcapade-type ideas to enliven our lives, to bring fresh blood to our less-than-exotic pairings. Would I entertain the idea of introducing a third to our cozy twosome? I clicked on "men seeking men."

Fuck. Maybe. The first posting popped up.

_OOOOOOO_

_Thurs 8/5 (Ventura)_

**_Lik my hole, now….33_**

_ME: Right to the point; who cared that he was minus a consonant? But too old for us twenty-somethings. Even if I was 30._

_OOOOOOO_

I surreptitiously adjusted my noticeably hardening dick, but not because of Mister 'Lik my hole.' My boyfriend, in his baby-blue tee with_ **I Spray for Surf **_emblazoned across his smooth, muscled chest in flowing purple script, had shifted unconsciously beneath my piercing gaze. Said gaze which was once again riveted on his mouthwatering crotch. _Was my tongue lolling?_ Did he notice?

The clearly visible object of my affection was encased in creamy pale yellow thin cotton slacks, simply begging for my attention with his legs splayed, one orange flip-flop clad foot slung over the back of the couch. But Jasper was completely oblivious to my need, happily skimming the latest issue of Out magazine, our patron saint Kylie gracing this month's cover. I'd given him a three year subscription for his birthday last year.

It was the gays' version of a cross between _Martha Stewart Living _and_ People._

We read it for the uplifting articles on gay culture. _Uh-huh._

I smiled at the memory of Jasper's excited, grateful response to my gift. _Good times._

Silently thanking 'Out' for distracting my usually attentive partner, I refocused. My poor Jasper, trapped in our dreadfully suffocating two bedroom apartment in West Hollywood with Dr. Large-but-Boring, my laptop opened in ungainly display on this crisp Sunday morning. _Why weren't we fucking?_ Oh yeah, I'd begged off this morning, eager to get to my computer. I was such a fuck-wad. Uh, Fuck-ward? Whatever.

I continued scrolling through the Personals, dissatisfaction my unwelcome, but close companion at the paltry selection of ads boasting more than 'eat my cock,' 'suck my dick,' or 'come on my face.' Were we gays so uniformly predictable?

Whoa! This one instantly completely pissed me off.

OOOOOOO

Wed 8/4 (Laguna Beach)

**_Marry your gay lover for free at Coco de Spa, sex optional_**

_ME: WTF! Didn't they realize how insulting the pretence was to those of us wanting to… Oh yeah, Prop 8 had made that scenario possible again in the Golden State._

_OOOOOOO_

I'd momentarily forgotten about the historic ruling, busy as I'd been all week at work. Of course, both Jasper and I had attended the raucous rally celebrating Judge Walker's opinion in Santa Monica the night the announcement was made. _Yawn_. The celebrities in attendance had been the biggest draw. The reading of the actual 136 (or was it _300?_) pages of his decision was a typical display of judicial self-indulgence. As a physician, most days I truly hated lawyers. Especially trial lawyers.

I huffed in exas-speration: legalized gay marriage. It would be a pyrrhic victory for some of us: what was the value of the vaunted civil right if Jasper was thinking of leaving me? At least he still pretended in bed, for my sake. Although he _was_ a damn convincing actor; I had to give him that.

OOOOOOO

Tues 8/3 (Torrance)

**_Jock in jock strap, on my knees, ready to suck…discreet for Bi/Married men…18_**

_ME: Hmmm. No way. What if 'jock in jock strap' stole my Jasper? (loud groan)_

_OOOOOOO_

"Love buns, what are you doing?" Jasper's lightly-accented Texas tones broke into my clandestine research. My eyes guiltily popped up to his expressive face to find him staring fixedly at me, curiosity causing that slight upturn in the corner of his mouth I loved.

Oh, shit.

"Checking for Whole Food coupons," I lied smoothly. He knew I was OCD about such things.

"Sure," he drawled. " Hey. Are we going to the beach later?" It was our usual late afternoon Sunday activity when Venice Beach wasn't an unfavorable fifty degrees, cloudy, and damp on a summer's day. Conditions that had been far too common this month.

Nodding in agreement, I offered, "Want to stop for barbeque at Roosterfish after? And what are you wearing to the beach?" I quickly envisioned my Jasper, generous package tightly encased in the white Jay swim shorts with the red drawstring he'd purchased at a shop on Robertson Boulevard. Jasper seemed to sense my preferences and usually indulged me.

"We shouldn't eat BBQ," was his automatic, and irritating response. "I was thinking about those new white trunks you like."

"How you can call yourself a Texan and not eat BBQ," I snickered. "Besides, I like BBQ."

He chuckled, the sweet sound momentarily scrambling my thoughts.

Thoughts that quickly re-_ass_embled themselves, with _'ass'_ being the operative word. Fuck, yeah. Pristine white trunks. They would emphasize his well-toned torso and tanned, long, lean quads and hamstrings. And only I could cup his ass-cheeks and mold my fingers into his private curves anytime I wanted. _Hawt._

Jasper's slim, but jaw-dropping physique was courtesy of both his career choice and his frequent workouts at Equal-knocks gym, his membership yet another self-serving gift from me. I reflexively ran my tongue over my teeth as I imagined biting the cloth off of him, chewing the red drawstring into small pieces as the saliva pooled in my mouth, and he whimpered softly from beneath me.

Crisis averted, Jasper hastily returned to his reading, a smile flitting over his lushly decadent lips. Lips that spread so beautifully wide, creating such deliciously strong friction against my leaking, feverish cock...

I halted mid-thought, and cautious now of distracting him again, I watched him in silence for a few minutes. Assured once again of a brief reprieve from his scrutiny, I slowly resumed my covert searching.

OOOOOOO

Mon 8/2 (Manhattan Beach)

**_Who likes being nude? And doing new things outside the bedroom? Call me ….20_**

_ME: Jasper and I would like to try. But after viewing your attached photo? No thanks, twink._

_OOOOOOO_

A recently-minted Physiatrist affiliated with Santa Monica UCLA Med Center, I'd met Jasper when he'd consulted with me, complaining of a recurring ache in his gluteal cleft. His arrival and wait in the reception area had the normally immune Practice's nurses quietly buzzing. Tanya gave me a dark grin before ushering me into the examination room where my new patient awaited, pacing anxiously. My eyes widened as we shook hands, but that was the only visible reaction I permitted myself.

Unfortunately, my resolve was no match for the stunning and uninhibited man about to become my first real boyfriend in 27 years. Although I hadn't even dared to dream about a future with him when I asked him in a pleasant tone to make himself comfortable.

After we were both seated, I mentally reviewed the usual catalog of questions. I decided to go with the basic recitation of my "where does it hurt" routine I'd memorized as a first year resident.

"So, Mr. Whitlock, how old are you?"

"24. Didn't you read my patient information?" _Younger than me. Snottier, too._

"Right. Eh, and how long has the pain been bothering you?"

"It's an ache, not a shooting pain. It might be the result of a minor injury I suffered during my last competition."

"_At least it wasn't caused by over-enthusiastic screwing,"_ I'd replied, but only to myself. Aloud, I asked, "You teach martial arts to youngsters? Was the competition related to your workplace environment, then? "

A physical being, I guessed my new patient was having trouble remaining static in the armchair across from me. He appeared to be twitching; I immediately averted my too-avid eyes.

"Yes." It was more in the form of a grunt than an actual word, but I let it pass. I was having my own problems. I'd just felt a large dollop of sweat that had gathered between my shoulder blades choose that moment to calf, the resulting drip slipping slowly down my spine. Shaken by the undeniable evidence of nerves, I hurried on with my survey.

"Umm, so does the…uh, gluteal ache prevent you from engaging in your usual daily activities?"

"If it didn't, why would I be here?" Jasper might have scowled at me; my vision was possibly a little blurred. Was the office air conditioning system malfunctioning? I briefly wrestled with and dismissed the idea of standing to check the room's thermostat.

Instead, my eyes roamed over the patient for evidence of moisture pooling about his person. Nothing. Nada. Zip. I passed a hand over my eyes before continuing.

"Mr. Whitlock, does my examining room seem a little too warm? Let me call a nurse…."

"It's fine; let's proceed."

"So, what specific activities trigger the ache?" He looked at me in disbelief, his mouth forming a flattened 'O' shape.

I hurried on through my list of questions. "And how would you describe the pain? On a scale of one–to-ten, is it a ten, or a five?" I was fishing, and I knew it.

Mr. Whitlock simply stared. I knew what was coming wouldn't be good. Still, I waited.

"Is ten a good number, or a bad one?" He finally scoffed. "And, if I say 'five', does that mean I can't be treated? What's the difference between a three, say, and a four?"

And then, what I'd always feared finally happened. I lost control of the consultation and my patient.

Growling in frustration at my lockstep, unimaginative medical queries, Jasper had unexpectedly stood up from the chair, effectively establishing dominance with his actions. Spinning around, he quickly unzipped and shrugged off his jeans, me helpless to stop him. I'd been too mesmerized to react, my professional demeanor completely blown by the royal, superior display of sculpted ass now bared to my covetous eyes in the otherwise lifeless examination room.

And no tan lines, anywhere. '_Flawless,_' my cock screamed at me. Luckily my cock wasn't able to broadcast his inappropriate thoughts.

I'd sucked in a shallow breath at the first accurate observation I'd made since meeting the patient, licked my lips, and silently begged him to face me.

Or maybe not as silently as I'd assumed. He'd immediately straightened from the partial crouch he'd been in while showing me exactly 'where it hurt.' Speechless now, I watched him turn back to face me, his hand covering his junk, eyebrow quirked. I'd barely been able to remain seated, and in a choked voice advised him to cover himself.

Likely my eyes had crossed in wanton abandon at the sight of him; I was really too bedazzled to care. Somehow I fumblingly cut our appointment short, and slowly regaining my senses, firmly referred him to a colleague at another Practice.

He'd studied me for many long seconds before clasping my outstretched hand in his free one in farewell, and thanking me for the referral.

Embarrassed, I quickly let go of him, only to have Jasper drop both previously engaged hands to his sides. In slow motion, he stooped to casually tuck in, adjust, and zip up what was a decidedly non-flaccid member. And then he was gone, the ghost of his smirk firmly implanted in my mind's eye.

I sat dazed in my office for the next half-hour, professing to need some time to complete overdue insurance paperwork. I only eventually relaxed sufficiently to resume seeing my appointments by convincing myself I'd never have to see him again.

It was over.

Instead, Jasper called me the following week to give me an update on his visit with the definitely straight Dr. Volturi. And, after running out of conversation, I was shocked to hear myself suggest we meet for coffee at Café on Fourth. Five hectic weeks later, dramatically declaring he loved me more than life itself, he'd moved in. I was ecstatic. I finally had a boyfriend.

And now, after three nearly perfect years together, I was sure he was thinking of leaving me.

OOOOOOO

Sun 8/1 (North Hollywood)

**Big Dick Uncut Bottom 9 Inches Wanted (No Cut Cocks!) (No 6 or 7 inch Cocks for Me! No Thx)….27**

_ME: Christ, was the asshole laughing all the time he wrote the Ad? I was anxious just reading his requirements: who could be expected to perform in a high-pressure environment like that?_

_OOOOOOO_

I exited LA WEEKLY's site before I was forced to spend the day in bed, Jasper's mouth repeatedly engulfing my cock in mute reassurance. Or possibly the next decade in therapy, painfully exploring the sexual inadequacies commonly associated with being the unlucky possessor of a thick, eight-inch dick that stood straight out from my body when aroused. Nine inches? Indeed.

I got a grip, literally, and checking first that my boyfriend was still occupied with his reading matter, I slowed my pounding heart, chilling enough to allow my imagination to flower. I needed a truly miraculous idea if I was going to resuscitate Jasper's flagging libido.

On a whim, I entered 'Gay Couples personals' in the search bar. Google brought up 356,000 results in less than a quarter of a second.

Clearly, it hadn't been an original idea.

The first site looked promising. At **MeetGayCouples**, the page was papered with images of loving men in personal photos. Each clasping couple's headshot was framed against backdrops ranging from tropical beaches, to overly-elaborate restaurant interiors, to oddly barren rooms or dangerous work settings—for the Bears, I guessed.

Humming, I eagerly scanned the selection of photos on the 'teaser' page, looking for like-minded candidates in their twenties. I'd sign up later for the site; no need to waste monies I could be putting towards paying down my education loans if this one proved to be a bust.

Although the web page was overrun with travel ads for gay friendly destinations, clicking on the photo of an attractive, younger pair labeled Carlisle and Garrett brought up their detailed profile.

Only to have my investigation interrupted by a slightly petulant Jasper.

"I'm so fucking sick of reading about Adam Landert in gay publications. What is he? The great gay hope? He's an entertainer. Period. We've seen both him and his former boyfriends playing tonsil-hockey around Venice for years."

My own boyfriend could never be faulted for his deadly accurate knowledge of the homosexual's impact on popular culture. Some of our acquaintances had even taken to calling him our gay history buff. However, I always felt he'd had an unfair advantage over the rest of us, coming out at the age of three as he claimed to have done. He'd thus been free from a young age to store away all sorts of cultural references I'd steadfastly ignored. That kind of shit definitely left me vulnerable; I'd not stepped out of the closet until I turned 22.

Swiftly preserving the web address of MeetGayCouples in my Favorites, I shut down the computer and stood in a blur of speed, stretching fully. My ergonomically correct chair was merely a precaution; I didn't expect to need back support for a very long time, if ever.

"Venusian Adam is old news, Jigsaw. If anything, I'm astonished your magazine even agrees to take his publicist's calls any more; didn't he get into an argument with one of their writers?" The gay singer was a sensitive topic between us. For I knew, beyond a doubt, that Jasper had sported a rather large crush on Adam the Raging Top when he'd first appeared on American Idol. It still rankled a bit, especially in my more fragile emotional state of late. Luckily, the erstwhile performer was off touring Europe on an extended trip. I was grateful for the temporary respite from worrying about _his_ currently boyfriend-less state compelling him to snag Jasper out from under me.

"Venetian," he mildly corrected me. "Venice isn't Venus."

"Unless you are gay or an actor," I shot back.

Having satisfactorily countered Jasper's original comment, I was now at liberty to make one of my own. His crystal blue eyes crinkled in anticipation as he had undoubtedly guessed the direction, if not the specific form, of my next remark.

"We missed connecting yesterday, and I'm horny. Want to nap with me before we pack for the beach?" I rolled my eyes suggestively; most days it was better if I refrained from my usual juvenile seduction techniques, but I'd felt so unsure of Jasper lately, I wasn't above a little coaxing. Those pants of his had been taunting me all morning, the seam nicely outlining what I feverishly craved in my mouth, on my tongue, and cradled in my palms. Not to mention stretching my ass. (I was a 'special occasion' bottom, but there were a rather large number of annual events constituting what Jasper deemed to be special occasions in our household.)

Today, the special occasion decision was going to be my call, because in the brief moments I'd been able to skim my target gay couple's web profile, I'd read a section entitled 'About Us.' And beneath the header, in a subcategory labeled 'We're Here For', Carlisle and Garrett had entered: _Friends, and possibly more…_

It was the _**more**_ that was both stimulating and terrifying me at the moment. Thoughts of Jasper and I simultaneously fucking faceless, blond, muscled strangers, staring into each others' eyes as we grunted and moaned in tandem, the sounds of slapping, erotically pounding flesh echoing in stereo around our bedroom…

But instead of sharing my fantasy with Jasper, I merely held out my hand, bending formally at the waist to invite him to join me. It was my clumsy attempt at chivalry, at seduction, at persuasion, and at appeasing my demanding, dripping dick.

For only Jasper could decide if he still desired me. I lately had taken to imagining each of my frolic requests of him in the form of a large white daisy with petals I was frantically plucking as I silently chanted_: He fucks me. He fucks me not. He fucks me. He fucks me. He fucks me… _

The next moment, my incredibly flexible _tae kwan do instructor of reluctant, pimply teen boys_ gracefully bounded from the couch and into my arms, burying his face in the lonely space between my neck and shoulder. I shuddered at the feel of his warm breath ghosting over my sensitive skin.

"I. Love. You." This from Jasper, each word punctuated with the emphatic press of his lips against the side of my throat. "And I like your suggestion we unleash our pythons." Here he snuggled closer. "Let's do it here on our balcony," he purred.

_He fucks me!_

"Always," I breathed. "I mean, me too. Iloveyou." Clearing my throat, I continued heatedly, "Mine's been spitting his venom all morning," counting on the fact that the buff, gay historian in my arms didn't know much about actual pythons.

Jasper's breathing hitched at my confession, causing the now rigid pole between my legs to twitch in anticipation. The movement may have been been imperceptible to the casual observer, but to me, it felt as if the always dicey California soil had decided to shift another foot or two to the left. My legs were shaky and my pulse erratic as I deeply inhaled his outdoors scent that went straight to my dick.

"Wrap your legs around me so I can carry you into our room." I mumbled this as I was licking the curve of his ear, inhaling his unique flavor for all I was worth. His crotch was pressed so tightly against mine, I swore I could feel the beat of his blood through the thin cotton material. He happily complied.

And in that sweetest of moments, fate chose to intervene in the form of his innocent request.

"But Ed, I'm bored with always fucking on that rock-hard mattress you insisted we buy. Let's walk over to the pool house and take some towels. Treat it as our own personal bathhouse. This is WEHO, hometown to eager sluts and unabashed exhibitionists. We'll fit right in."

He chuckled at his double entendre, evidently unable to hear my heart breaking in two. "It could even be fun to be caught in the act by our fellow…" Finally pulling back and catching sight of my conflicted expression, Jasper stopped and gifted me with one of his loopy, wide grins, flashing his beautiful enamel at me.

"Babe, I was only teasing you! You know that, right?" Releasing his legs from my waist, he slid all the way down to the floor onto his knees, leaving him eye-to-eye with my rapidly deflating erection.

'Ed-wood, what has caused you to sheath your sword?"

"Nothing." I moped: I was no longer sporting my usual eight inches.

"Here, let me see; I'll make him feel better. Promise."

As he spoke, Jasper's ardent fingers were already skimming over the front of my jeans, caressing and stroking the lost opportunity back to life. He leaned forward, one knee bent underneath him, to ferret beneath my black tee-shirt and tease the faint reddish-gold hair encircling my belly button, repeatedly darting just the tip of his tongue into the depression. A moan escaped his lips; coyote-like, I called-out with one of my own in response. His fingertips had walked up my chest, finding and now gently pinching and twisting my nipples between thumb and index finger. I began gently rocking my hips in time with his tongue dipping into me, and felt him slide it down into the waistband of my low-slung jeans. He didn't have far to go to lave it over the slit of my straining cock. I grunted, needing to push so much more of me into his mouth. Wanting it now, I fidgeted in frustration and began tugging my constricting clothing down over my hips to give him better access.

I was swiftly losing that feeling of depression that had earlier descended upon me. Until I remembered.

Jasper had finally admitted he was bored.

I wondered what Carlisle and Garrett would look like from the waist down.

* * *

A/N: Just for fun. Musical accompaniment: youtube. com / watch?v=wmXQFwlD7vk

OMG, those skintight white pants at the end.

JPOV will be next.


	2. When People Run in Circles

**Boyfriend Swapping—Couples Style**

_Authors Note:_ _Do you like boy-on-boy love? If not, or if you are too young to understand the term slash, leave now and find some BellaxEdward fiction better suited to your tastes. Please—don't make me ask you twice. Go, now._

_Staying? You have been warned: slashy lemon ahead. _

_These characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer; I'm poking around in their heads for new ideas._

_Please note: Jasper's POV purposely 'sounds' different than Edward's POV. Lovely, physically-oriented Jasper thinks and speaks in ways that are dissimilar than the more cerebral, tormented, moody Edward. Since you only *think* you know Jasper, having seen him through Edward's eyes, this chapter will take some time to explore him._

_So, what is Edward willing to do to recapture Jasper's interest? BTW, those posted adverts last chapter were *not* fictional. _

* * *

**Chapter 2. When People Run in Circles (JPOV)**

The distinctive scent of Clearasil permeates the _dojang_ where I have the boys working on their kicking this morning. Some days, I bike home convinced that the reek will never leave my nostrils. It doesn't help that the boys wear the sport's padded helmets and are laced into the trunk protectors. I've no doubt the copious amounts of sweat that pours off their young bodies during a workout contributes exponentially to the acne medication's sales results.

But no one in my little squad of competitors ever complains about wearing the forearm and shin guards; I'd carefully explained early in the training that deep bruising was common and painful to round eyes and thoughtful teenage expressions. Luckily, most injuries that occur during Tae kwon do practice are leg-related, and not life-threatening. Still, their parents knew that any boy arriving without his safety equipment would be sent home or sit out the training session.

Tae kwon do became an Olympic sport in 2000. I'd once harbored dreams of being good enough to make the 2004 games, but my own unusual injuries, accumulated after more than a decade in the sport, had hampered my movements. In my early twenties, I'd been forced to acknowledge that I just wasn't Olympic material. I'd sacrificed a lot of my life to the rigorous training and had to relearn how to live normally. It had been a long process; the loss of my career dreams still affected me at times.

I keep a careful eye on all my boys during every practice, but today my eye naturally drifts to my best student, a 17 year-old from Beverly Hills. His parents are very protective of him; he is a fierce fighter, but a gentle soul. I can imagine how this sport looks to the outside world; there are powerful and greedy people backing it who would have it generate hundreds of millions of dollars for them. _Tae kwon do_ loosely translates as _'the way of foot and fist,'_ or kicking and punching. It is the Asian sport most akin to boxing.

I move across the mats to stand in front of Jacob now, assessing his form as he repeatedly balances on his left leg and shoots his right out in swift jabbing movements. It was physically draining, and the sweat had soaked through his jacket, staining the hem of his _dobok_ visible beneath the trunk guard.

"Take a break; your breathing is not controlled. Where is your center of gravity, Jake?"

Grudgingly, he follows my order. Bent over now, the sweat dripping from his face, Jacob is pulling in great gulps of air. He'd been pushing himself too hard, and I'd been distracted by some mistakes I saw one of my younger pupils, James, making repeatedly. I should have been on him sooner.

"Jake, if you continue like this, I will be speaking to your parents about it. This is an inappropriate reaction to have during a practice session." I am stern, but friendly with the teenager.

He finally speaks. "I'm not a marshmallow like Mike and some of the others. I can take it."

"This isn't an exhibition; in our sport, stretching, relaxation, and meditation techniques are just as valuable to your development as a competitor."

He gives me a bleak look, but nods in acknowledgment.

"Let's sid-down," I say, falling back into childhood accents.

Jacob meekly follows me over to the benches lining the walls of the center's training hall. As soon as I sit, he collapses next to me. I know I am blurring the lines, but I shift over and lightly settle my arm across the top of his shoulders. He tenses, and then visibly loosens up, his breathing becoming a little less labored. We remain silent for a few minutes as I give him time to come down from his aerobic high.

I'd made no effort to hide that fact that I am a gay man from my fellow Instructors and Master at the Center; this is the liberal West Coast and no one cares. The folks in Texas had been a little less accepting during my teenage years; it was why I'd left Austin for college in California on a full scholarship and never looked back. And now I have Edward. Moody bastard though he often is, my life is perfect in most ways. Even if I am not always truthful with him.

"Jake, did I ever show you my scar from my first exhibition after I moved into the senior ranks?" He shakes his head, shyly averting his eyes from my face. We aren't that close physically, but he shifts back a bit as I lift my arm from his shoulder. I start to roll up the arm of my ivory jacket, loosening the cloth bound tightly around my waist an inch and catch him watching me intently.

"That looks like a set of teeth marks, Jasper." Jacob is gaping openly at the faint white crescent-shaped scar, the question he isn't asking burning in his eyes.

"I'm lucky not to have more of these on my body, Jake. Or rather, not lucky, but my control has contributed to me being able to avoid the sorts of injuries that leave scars such as this. The boy who lost control during our sparring ended up nearly losing his teeth over this incident and immediately left the sport. Laurent was sort of a friend, but he disappeared after the accident. I don't know what happened to him."

Jacob is listening closely to me; I can see that my story is having an impact.

"So, for what's left of today, I'd like you to take to the mats and practice the mediation we were working on last week. And think about what I am telling you, okay?"

"Yes Jasper." His tone is accepting, but I wonder if I've really gotten through.

Jacob is just coming into his adult body. He is the only child of the Swans, a wealthy Beverly Hills corporate attorney and his socialite wife. I've come to know both Renee and Charles very well as their adopted son had been taking lessons from me since his twelfth birthday. He'd grown six inches in the last year and looked to have more room left up above. The boy had struggled to adapt to his new body, now often presenting as grumpy or standoffish. _Hormones._

Just under six feet myself, I figured some of his recent attitude came from the undeniable pains associated with that spurt. His mother told me he slept a lot, and had pulled away from most of his friends. I sometimes speculated there might be more going on as he adjusted to his body's changes, but he had never mentioned it to me.

I wisely chose not to become too heavily involved in the students' personal lives. If I sensed a problem, I would intervene, but I was the Instructor or _Sabum_, holding a fourth degree black belt, not the child's parent. It would be several more years before I could advance to the fifth degree, and I was patiently performing the duties assigned to my rank as per the Federation and biding my time. I had no intention of screwing up over a personal matter and imperiling my steady advancement to Master, or _Sahyun_. As Master, I would be able to have my own school and hire Instructors and Assistants to teach the sport's techniques. I had big plans for my future.

The remainder of the training session goes quickly. We finish with the students reciting the goals of the day's practice, and the Federation's Student Oaths I most favor:

_**I shall be a champion of justice and freedom. **_

_**I shall build a better and more peaceful world.**_

Oaths complete, we end this session. I watch them file into the locker rooms to collect their personal items. I had planned to use the next three hours, free time, to practice _patterns_, specifically the _Chang Hon_ sets. I have an exhibition coming up in December and intend to be ready for it; I need the validation of my efforts.

But uncharacteristically, I'm shrugging it off. Instead, I break training, deciding to call Edward and ask him to lunch. Wednesdays are often slow clinic days for my lover, even during the summer months. Rarely, he will take a half-day and fill it with paperwork or errands. Even after three torrid years together, I still enjoy the novelty of seeing him during what are normally regular work hours. It feels illicit, naughty, forbidden.

"Sweet cheeks?" I purr into Edward's cell phone when he picks up.

"You and the fruity pet names, Jazz. Are you calling me for lunch?"

"Am I so predictable, or it just that time of day?"

"You know I sometimes have Wednesday afternoons free, you _shameless flirt_."

"Used _that one_ on you last week, Edward, you plagiarist. Should I pick up a dictionary for inspiration?"

Edward pauses. "There's so many things wrong with that sentence. What are you wearing?"

"Fuck, Edward, this isn't phone sex. Meet me at Luigi's," and I press the off button, humming in anticipation. It doesn't seem that we are very spontaneous these days. I reflect that it has been three years since I'd seduced him in his office during my first appointment. Maybe I need to change it up. I head to the showers for relief and to work up some ideas, among other things.

And just as a precaution, before I leave the_ dojong_, I ask Sergei to cover for me if I am late getting back.

"It's Wednesday, isn't it?" He smirks.

I don't bother thanking him. Shit, when even my _Sahyun_ knows my impromptu fuck schedule, I need to worry.

Lost in thought, I make the trip to the café in twenty minutes, pedaling furiously. Intent on avoiding the cars making a left turn onto the Boulevard, I don't spot Edward sitting in his Volvo in the valet parking section at our restaurant. He honks and when I pull up by his open car window, smiles and lifts up two white paper bags to show me. "Wha?" I motion with my hand. He taps his forefinger against his temple, and I lean in for a kiss, but he pulls back; he has something to tell me and can't be inconvenienced by the intrusion of my lips against his mouth.

"Before I left the office, I ordered takeout: lobster ravioli for you, lasagna for me. I've a surprise for you. Let's roll out."

I nod, too excited by the unexpected change in our plans to chide him for the lasagna. One eyebrow feels like it might need some persuasion to return to its normal resting place.

Quickly stowing my bike in the back of the car, I climb in the front seat, offering another kiss. And am again rebuffed, but this time with a mischievous smile and what appears to be the beginning of a blush.

"No kiss?" I am a little confused.

Instead of an answer, he hands me a strip of cloth. Well, one of his middle-school vintage wide pin-striped ties. "They know us here, Jasper, so I can't do it, but as soon we are out of the parking lot, wrap it around your eyes and tie it tightly." I open my mouth to speak, but Edward has other ideas, meaningfully eyeing the tie I'm still holding.

"And shut-the-fuck-up."

Well, this is different for a Wednesday afternoon. I hastily comply, and then awkwardly buckle up and check by feel that he's done the same. He growls at me; but I'm playing along, staying in the moment.

In less than ten minutes, Edward turns onto a quieter side street that sounds more residential. He makes a fast, awkward right turn and pulls into a long alley or drive, finally shutting down the engine.

"Stay here." And he's gone.

I don't move or speak, glad now that I took a long shower after the practice session. I hope he remembered to bring the WET. I open the glove box, and feeling around, my hand settles on our emergency tube's familiar shape. I retrieve it and tuck it into my jacket pocket. Holding the phallic-shaped object acts like a stimulus for me; I begin to shift around to give myself a little more room. I'd feel foolish if someone walked by and saw me, but this is Edward's most unstructured moment in three years. Foolish works.

I hear gravel crunching signaling his return before he gets back in the car. We drive a short distance to what must be a covered space or garage, as the sunlight disappears after a few moments.

I wait for Edward to explain, but instead he leaves the car. Now I'm getting interested. I wait for what feels like hours, listening for his footsteps, but I'm alone. Just as I'm thinking I might cheat and remove the blindfold, my door opens.

I'm pulled from the seat and pushed roughly against the side of the Volvo. Impatient hands assault my body, turning me to face the side doors, as I spread my arms to keep from smacking into the metal handles. I've had the blindfold on for so long, I'm losing my sense of space. Thumbs that I hope belong to Edward hook into the tops of my loose-fitting corduroy jeans and yank down hard. The fabric burns against my naked skin, no briefs to protect my tender flesh from the roughness.

I know it is Edward, but what if it isn't? My lover is wearing a citrusy cologne I don't recognize; Edward never wears any scent. Is he attempting to trick me?

My pants caught above my knees, I remain motionless for now, waiting for more, when I feel those two thumbs take control of me again; I attempt to twist around, but I'm firmly grasped by my cheeks. Spread wide and vulnerable, I push back with a needy moan against the now probing, demanding fingers of my tormenter, making my wishes known. But it is quickly made clear to me that I'm not in charge here when a large hand pushes between my legs and cups my balls, lifting them away from my body. I grimace, _fuck_, that hurts. At my slight flinch, the hand gentles and now tugs lightly, tickling the few hairs that swirl over my sac. Now it begins to feel good, and I let go, just enjoying the sensations. But I'm still mystified—is this Edward, or perhaps someone he has hired? If so, it is a surprisingly welcome fantasy we could share.

The friction of the side door begins to chafe painfully against my cock, but I quell the urge to squirm away from the hands that have taken control of me. This is Edward's game.

Never a passive bottom, I flex my ass muscles and sway slightly from side to side. In minutes, I'm rocking back-and-forth as I revel in the abrasive feel of his slightly scruffy face pressing repeatedly into my ass. The wet, pointed end of a tongue is painting sloppy circles around my hole, and I'm wondering if I'm allowed to speak, to beg, for the teasing to stop? I want to be tasted, to be mastered, to be penetrated. I want Edward or his alter ego to explode inside me, the force of his cum rocking us both.

Without thinking of the consequences, I groan, "Edward."

Immediately, I freeze, knowing I've made a mistake here. And I'm not wrong.

Perhaps to punish me, or because he can't resist, my boyfriend darts his tongue in quick successive jabs into my hole, his palms molded possessively to the smooth skin on my hips, holding me steadily in place. He quickly pulls back, blowing cool breaths over the wet surface, before I feel him stand behind me.

Is it Edward? I still don't know for sure, and I'm startled from my uncertainty by the faint swoosh made by the passage of air. A hard palm smacks against the tender areas so recently worshiped, and I stagger slightly.

But that is all I'll get from him; he's gone, leaving me exposed and alone. Uncertain what to do, I wait a few minutes, listening for his footsteps returning. When I finally hear him, he's on top of me again. Whispering "_Jasper, so hot"_ into my neck as he grasps my aching erection, he gives it several quick jerks, sliding the foreskin up and over my pre-cum slickened head in sure, practiced movements. I want more, but he too soon stops his ministrations, pushing me police-style and still partially unclothed down into the front seat of the car. I don't smell the citrusy cologne from earlier now and am confused—was that Edward or someone else who was tonguing me? I'm nearly certain it was Edward. Had to be. After three years, I know him too well. Even if he hasn't been acting like himself lately.

Edward gets back in his seat, but doesn't speak to me. In an unexpected maneuver, he leans over and slides his palm beneath my balls again as he finally presses his lips forcefully against mine.

In truth, Edward takes me with his tongue and his lips, all while steadily massaging my balls before moving up to wrap eager fingers around my hard, aching, cock. I'm whimpering in anticipation now, and I try to twist into his chest to make the angle better for both of us.

Instead, he stops, and gently unties and removes the blindfold. "Are you alright?"

As if he doesn't know? "Suck me off." But I'm pleading, when what I'd intended was to issue an undeniable command.

"Not here, baby. Someone might see us. Let's go inside and eat our lunch first. I have the room for two hours." I can hear the anticipation in his voice, and perhaps a touch of pride at arranging this set-up.

Then he snickers, "You'll have to re-dress yourself, you shameless exhibitionist."

And I feel the beginnings of a small knot of anxiety low in my gut. "Wasn't that you?"

Edward looks askance at my question.

"When?"

"Edward!" I shout and nearly rip the handle from the door as I struggle to get out of the cramped confines of his car, encumbered by my pants still tangled around my knees. I need air.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Edward M. Cullen._ His nameplate on the Clinic's entrance means nothing to me, even if I notice it and smirk as I push open the heavy, fire-proof door. _Who was named Edward anymore? Wasn't that a name reserved for English monarchs and pretentious, pointy-headed pricks?_

The receptionist stares at me as I cross the nearly deserted waiting room to reach her desk. Just another female who mistakenly thinks I might be available. I waste one of my more disarming smiles on her, hoping for good news on the wait to see a doctor.

"Jasper Whitlock?" She knows who I am; I merely nod. "Welcome. Insurance card, please."

I comply, and in return receive a handful of papers to complete. When I finish my unpleasant reporting task, I return to her desk.

She fishes out my card and sets it on the counter, saying, "Dr. Cullen will see you immediately. Please enter through that door," pointing down the hall behind her.

"I'm Tanya," the overly-enthusiastic nurse who greets me explains, holding out a hand to shake. I pause, not accustomed to shaking hands with nurses through my long-career of sustaining sports-related injuries, but she seems pleasant enough.

"Is Dr. Cullen ready for me?"

"Are you feeling up to being examined by Dr. Cullen? He's very gentle."

Translating nurse-speak, I realize she is asking if I am in pain today. "I'm fine." She then motions me to follow her into the examination room, takes a few vitals, and I am on my own. I don't expect a confrontation with the physiatrist, but describing the pain will require removing my jeans, I am sure. Doctors always made me so fucking nervous.

This is just as Dr. Cullen makes his way into the room, and I cease my pacing to stare at him; his shock of golden-tinged, unruly auburn hair the first thing that draws my eye. Or maybe it is the appetizing aroma—his clothes are permeated with it. He smells as if he'd just exited a fragrant Italian restaurant specializing in garlic-laden dishes. I imagine he would glow like a blood-red diamond in the moonlight with his fuck-hawt hair and fair, creamy complexion. He is adorable, and so completely fuckable.

Reining in my immediate desire to skip the appointment and just begin licking him all over, I try to concentrate on what he is saying. Catching-up in the middle of his spiel, I realize he is well past the preliminaries.

"24." I blurt, hoping I still accurately remember my current age; I actually feel about 14.

I stammer out a few more answers; I may even be a little curt with him. If so, it is his damnably grave, jungle-green eyes that splinter my attention.

Frustrated with the slow pace, and noticing that he has developed a few beads of perspiration just below his hairline that match the clammy sensations building behind my knees and other places, I act impulsively. Standing, I determine to rush through the process and find out why the nagging lower back ache won't go away. I pale as I contemplate a bleak future: what if I've stumbled upon the perfect boyfriend and can't take him up on his interest because of the gluteal pain? _Tragedy._

_Even then, Edward made me sound like a giddy schoolgirl._

"Dr. Cullen," I begin, popping the top button on my blue-jeans I'd found at the Buffalo Exchange, "it simply hurts." The zipper works effortlessly, and I half-turn away as I release the sharp teeth, careful of my tight, sandy curls as I ease it down. _Damn, how to explain the semi-erection?_ Unable to think of an answer, I completely turn my back to him and dare to touch myself in his presence.

A loud swallow can be heard in the room, but is it him or is it me? Or both of us?

"This is where the pain begins," I say, looking over my shoulder at him as I trace my index finger from just beneath my waist, across my exposed buttock, and down into my cleft. "It was a shooting pain two weeks ago, but now it's just a dull ache. Maybe it's getting better?" I am optimistic about my chances; I've recovered from worse injuries than this one.

My physician's face is a study in lust; I am almost as transfixed by his expression as he clearly is by my naked ass. I contemplate clenching just to see his reaction.

_Why hold back?_ I clench my cheeks hard, and his eyes widen in undisguised desire. _Sweet!_

Things move swiftly after that; he regains his senses, offers a referral to another specialist, and mumbles I need to finish dressing. Seeing my former control slipping away, I shake his hand in farewell, feeling that spark flare between us as we both maintain contact longer than is polite. I finally drop both hands to let him see that I am just as affected physically by him as he is by me.

It is a pivotal moment: as his eyes lock on my aroused cock, I decide to give him a week to miss me, and then I will call him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Jigsaw, what's wrong?"

"I thought there was someone else here before you came back…" I'm panting, and wondering what to say now. Should I tell him; is this a test of my truthfulness?

I know Edward thinks I'm a lightweight compared to him. After all, he's a doctor, and I'm a martial arts instructor. He has three times the higher education I have, and he didn't attend college on a sports scholarship. I'm not his equal, and it seems to be a foregone conclusion I never will be.

And today's tame adventure threatens to become an unprecedented mess; I settle back on the seat, calmly adjust my clothing and slow my breathing to hide my turmoil. It takes time, but it works.

"Let's go, Edward. I'm hungry," is my determined pronouncement, drowning out his sputtering questions.

Although my mouth feels like burnt cotton, and I may never eat again. I'm questioning my own judgment at the moment.

"Who was here? Did something happen?" Edward won't give it up.

"I thought I heard footsteps. That's all." How could I ever explain this? I willingly, happily let some stranger _**rim me **_while my partner of three years is renting a hotel room for us? Is there any way to recover from such a lapse?

Fuck-does my Edward need any more incontrovertible evidence I am not as smart as he is?

"And you shouldn't be eating the lasagna," I mutter under my breath as I prepare to follow him to the hotel room.

There are a few moments of silence between us, and I'm ready to confess my concerns when Edward stops and turns to me, remorseful.

"Jasper, it was me. I love you, always. Didn't you guess?"

* * *

A/N: The next chapter will be EPOV and explore what happens next. I doubt Edward will just drop his line of questioning everything, but I decided to reveal this early so no one would wonder.

http(semi-colon)/www(dot0youtube (dot)com/watch?v=4N3N1MlvVc4 (Gary Jules, Mad World)


	3. To be Lost in the Forest

**Boyfriend Swapping—Couples Style**

_Authors Note:_ _These characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer; I'm only experimenting with the art form._

_Do you like boy-on-boy love? (I do!) If not, or if you are too young to understand the term slash, leave now. Eighteen and over only, please—don't make me ask you twice. Go, now._

_Staying? You have been warned: slashy lemon ahead. _

* * *

**Chapter 3.** To Be Lost In the Forest (EPOV)

From Chapter 2:

_"And you shouldn't be eating the lasagna," I mutter under my breath as I prepare to follow him to the hotel room._

_There are a few moments of silence between us, and I'm ready to confess my concerns when Edward stops and turns to me, remorseful._

_"Jasper, it was me. I love you, always. Didn't you guess?"_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Carefully checking me over for any evidence to corroborate my statement, and evidently finding none, Jasper hesitates before answering.

"Sure about that?"

My mouth twists into a wry grimace, eyes downcast as I try to work out what he's saying to me.

"I love you, Jasper; I just do. We've been together almost three years now. I'd do almost anything..." I stop myself before I say more. Now is not the moment to reveal I know he's dangerously close to leaving me. Bored-out-of-his-freaking-mind close, but I'm going to fix it...somehow.

However, we both know Edward-the-physician sucks a mighty wind in the romance department. All the years burying myself in demanding, advanced placement science and math classes, plus years of weekends spent indoors cramming for exams enabled me to graduate college two years early. Add in the countless hours attributable to the demands of my profession, and my chosen field of medicine did not a sexy Edward make. In truth, I'm a 'meat-and-potatoes' dull-ish sort of fucker. And without printed reading materials to consult for step-by-step directions, I'm often in way over my head in matters of the heart.

So it was just my luck to fall hard for Jasper, a southern gentleman in every sense. My boyfriend never forgets a birthday, anniversary, or Valentine's day. He's always at the ready with the right card, the perfectly-wrapped gift, the affectionate greeting. Honestly, I can't fathom why he's stayed with me for as long as he has.

"I love you, too, Ed, but…did that go as you intended?" His voice trails off, a slight frown marring his normally contented expression. As Jasper listens intently to my garbled explanations, I'm compulsively fisting my hair, pulling it into shapes better suited for modern sculpture than the top of my head. It doesn't help much, cause now I'm swearing on my grave to never engage in garage seductions, blindfolds, or anything like what just transpired, ever again. My neatly sheared bronze locks, easily my best feature, are reduced to a lump of knots before I finally earn a grudging nod of acceptance from my partner.

"I admit you tearing my pants off and attacking me with your tongue was exciting at first, when I had it figured as you. Something went wrong somewhere along the way, that's all. Let's just mark it down as a bungled attempt. Now, I'd like to get out of this garage sometime today. Where exactly are we, Ed?"

Equanimity restored, he finally turns away from me, a faint smile playing about his perfect, pale lips. I could kiss his ass in gratitude, but I want out of the garage as well, so guess I'll follow-up on that thought later.

Crisis averted, I realize I have been crushing the restaurant's take-out bags under my arm since exiting the Volvo. I shift the sacks around, stretching out my arm when my palm unexpectedly skims the damp patch on my back pocket. _Oh yeah._ That wet blotch is my own fault. _Hotel housekeeping carts, stocked full of free toiletries, are going to be the death of me one day, _I think_. I'll either end up in prison for grand larceny or crushed under one after it topples over, its delicate balance thrown off-kilter by my filching of too many packets of mini-soaps as I scoot past the massive hall-hazards._

I therefore do my best to avoid the metal beasts, conscious of the fact that I don't need to pilfer the carts anymore. It sometimes helps my resolve to remember that I am an M.D. now.

However, the excitement of today's unscripted events may have caused me to snap. How else to explain how several packets of scented, wet clean-up towels found their way into my back pants pocket?

I admit the theft had seemed undeniably justified at the time: we were Hotel guests, after all. Plus, I was planning on using the wipes to freshen my car seats, or maybe scrub down the side of the Volvo. It was no rationalization at all that I expected my waiting, blindfolded partner would shortly be experiencing the orgasm of his life. And Jasper's aim tended to be unpredictable when I could make that happen for him. I was confident I'd make good use of my freebies.

Unfortunately, much like a certain part of me, during the natural course of events the flimsy packages had been crushed into a too-small space. Maybe I should have foreseen, again just like me, that the packets would end-up leaking their fluid into the heavy cotton material I was wearing. _But I didn't_. Now I bet my ass smelled alluringly of lemon dishwashing soap.

_Way to go, Edward_; so much for teasing Jasper into a sexual frenzy while I'm reeking of Dawn, or Dove, or some such shit. But at the back of my mind is the kernel of knowledge that he hadn't desired anyone else but me.

I file away that fact for later examination.

"Jigsaw, wait up, I need to grab our bag." I turn back to the car and handily retrieve the emergency bag that, being Edward, I always keep packed and ready in the cargo for overnights. I confess to being partial to clean underwear, no matter how dire the circumstances.

I stuff the paper lunch sacks inside the bag and sling it over my shoulder, straightening to find Jasper giving me a cautionary look.

"What's that for, boy scout? Is one of us going camping?"

I hesitate, certain now his tone indicates that in fact Jasper hasn't entirely forgiven me for the blindfold and possibly other things.

But considering where I've booked us in, and how I intend to care for my lover later, I'm confident he'll eventually relent.

Instead of answering, I grandly sweep my arm outward. "Look where we are, baby." And we step outside into the overcast day to find the elevator to our room a few feet away. The Inn at Playa Del Rey is billed as world-class accommodations three blocks from the beach. Handing over my credit card earlier, the hotel's desk clerk had assured me our room faced into the 600 acres of the Ballona Wetlands, a lush bird sanctuary. Maybe we'll explore the trails, or more likely, we'll first spend the afternoon inside, occasionally noticing the grounds as backdrop in the floor-to-ceiling windows from the unit's oversized bed.

I know Jasper has wanted to stay here; we've driven by the entrance more than once on our way to LAX and wondered what it would be like to be guests.

An excited boyfriend now shoots me a wild look, and then blurts _"The Inn?_ Really?" I look appropriately humble as I dip my head in acknowledgment.

"Yeah, okay, Ed, this is awesome, you perfect bunwich. But just don't try that other shit on me again without advance warning," before giving a small yip and flinging his arms around me. I try for a kiss, and am rewarded with the feel of his lips pressed firmly against my own as he jiggles slightly in anticipation.

His lithe form is molded to mine now. I urgently slide my fingers up his sides to grasp tightly onto his shoulders, squeezing him hard as he stills in my arms, his complete attention now focused on me.

"Can you take the afternoon off, J? Let's spend the rest of the day having hot, pounding make-up sex," I breathe into his ear and begin suggestively brushing my hips against his, a dance with no music required.

"Sergei already agreed to cover for me; I didn't even need to ask," he says with a smirk. "And Edward, that's one promise you better keep." Pulling back, he shoots me a mischievous look. "So, can we visit the room right now? We'll investigate the grounds… later."

I nod, only too happy to agree. We step into the elevator, and briefly engage in some heated grappling, my porn-generated hot-elevator-sex imagery literally _springing_ to life. He's pushing me hard against the cab's side wall, and I'm groaning in anticipation, even knowing the ride to the top floor will be brief.

His callused hands roam possessively over the front of the bulge visibie beneath the business slacks I donned this morning for work, and slide under the waistband, teasing the tip of my cock. Fuck yes; I'm back to being hard and eager for him, humming as his cool palm wraps around the slick skin in a wanton massage. It makes me ache for him again, as I get a strong visual of filling my mouth with his nuts, fingering my way to his tight entrance, pressing the **stop** button on the panel just on the other side of his hip …

The doors open quietly, and Jasper reluctantly breaks away from me. We eye each other, our intentions unmistakable before he takes my hand, impatiently herding us down the hall. With only 21 rooms in this hotel, the feeling is intimate and luxurious.

I hand over the key card; he carefully fits it into the electronic lock and showing uncharacteristic restraint, beckons me to enter first.

It's a promising start. But I'm too firmly planted in reality to expect our sex life to be the beneficiary of a modern-day miracle. No visitations from the Virgin today.

In fact, since Sunday morning when I'd scanned the LA WEEKLY personals online, I've been fighting the nagging urge to send Carlisle and Garrett an email about a double-date. Holding me back is their profile's expressly stated _'friends and maybe more' _expectations—admittedly, that phrase leaves a lot to the imagination. And, I'm still not 100% sure if Jasper and I would be mentally prepared to have group sex with them. Ever. Today's events seems to demonstrate exactly the opposite to be true.

And if we did meet them, I can only hope we'd have the option of saying _'no_' if it turns out they have small dicks, or suffer from poor hygiene, or something equally unpleasant. Not that I am shallow, of course; I prefer to think of it as having 'standards.'

But now, since we have this one-day respite ahead of us to explore each other's secret desires, maybe it will be enough to alleviate some of Jazz's professed boredom for another week or two. Giving me time to work up a 'Plan B' should Carl and Gar (as I've come to think of them) do the unthinkable and turn _down _my invitation.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jasper make his way slowly over to the windows. He freezes and whistles in appreciation.

"Edward, did you know what we were getting into here?" So close to the ocean, the wetlands are covered in a light mist, the greens muted, the few visible gravel and weathered boardwalk paths sinking in-and-out of view as the mist swirls in tandem with the ocean breezes.

"Yes, baby. Why don't you enjoy it for a few minutes? I'll use the microwave to re-heat our food and then grab a quick shower." I pull out the slightly crushed sacks and set them on our room's dining table, then hold out my arms in mute appeal.

No hesitation from my boyfriend. He bounds from across the room, and I'm kissing him once again, igniting the passion as I sink into the stimulus of his taste and his untamed male scent, when he pulls back.

"Why were you wearing cologne in the garage earlier?"

Before I can explain it wasn't cologne, he continues, "And just so you know, that was a very hot game we played together, Ed. Now that I know it was you licking me, not some chance passerby, I'm eager to try a few other things this afternoon."

Jasper's improved mood is infectious, and I cheekily respond to his earlier question with one of my own. "So you thought my ass smelled good, eh? A heady blend of citrus and Edward, possibly?"

His own unique scent was maybe the _second_ thing I noticed about my boyfriend when we first got together.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Interlude:_

My first date with Jasper was an informal meet-up at an open-air cafe for coffee. Typically, I was running behind even then, and the Energizer bunny was agitated, bouncing around the sidewalk when I eventually walked up to the entrance, an apologetic grin masking my anxiety.

"'lo, Edward. Late much?" His inquiry wasn't exactly friendly, and his arm barely twitched as if he'd planned to shake hands, but changed his mind. I'd actually forgotten just how snotty he could be. Frankly, if I hadn't seen him naked in my office, and been jacking-off every morning to that very-same image now made flesh and tantalizingly within reach, I might have scowled, turned around, and left.

But to be this near to my goal? Leaving wasn't an option. Maybe he was just nervous, too.

I ignored the aborted handshake, instead leaning in to buss cheeks with Jasper, seeking physical contact after a week bereft of his intoxicating presence. Today he was dressed for the beach in worn cut-offs, sneakers, and a red sleeveless Tee, looking all of about nineteen. Being so close to him, I was beginning to feel a little woozy again.

I took my time with my response as I assessed what physical delights awaited with the man before me if I could shake off my moodiness and behave at lunch. My former patient, now elevated to potential boyfriend status, sported the perfect physique lifted directly from the cover of _Men's Health_. In the natural outdoor light, I was better able to appreciate his soft, wavy, sun-streaked locks tucked behind his ears, and mesmerizing eyes a color I'd only seen in photographs of successful movie actors. Chris Pine came to mind, for one. All-in-all, _the package was good enough to swallow down in a single gulp. _I hoped I got the chance.

"Sorry, my bad, Jasper; is it too tedious to simply plead traffic?" I did regret being late and allowed my chagrin to bleed through.

He recognized my question as rhetorical and let it slide, instead asking, "Thirsty?" He was observing me closely, and I began to feel that familiar warmth spreading low in my belly. If we didn't move soon, I was possibly in danger of passing out from lust-induced lack of blood to the brain. In my current dazed state, just getting an obvious boner would be considered a reprieve.

"Yeah," I managed to reply in a disinterested tone of voice. "Let's go inside and order. My treat, of course."

"I called you," he began to protest.

"Saved me the trouble; therefore, let me say 'thanks'…" I finished lamely as I moved closer to Jasper again, briefly resting my palm against the small of his back to encourage him to go first. I was having a little trouble breathing now as well. Hmm. Ever since I'd first read about the condition as a teen, I'd been vigilant about checking for symptoms of a heart attack. However, my chest didn't actually hurt, so I took a few deep breaths, mentally willed my racing pulse to slow, and re-assured myself it wasn't the 'big one.'

But there _was_ a specific ache in the vicinity of my heart. I cataloged the symptom as a deep, overall prickling sensation—my chest seemed to be expanding just from standing so near him. Freely inhaling his unique scent for the first time, the panicky feelings returned in a rush. They seemed to be triggered by the realization that I would soon be seated across from him exchanging information as I tried to swallow whatever tasteless gruel this over-priced cafe served as heart-healthy.

Not well-versed in first-date etiquette, and astonished by the unusual sensations, I unthinkingly blurted, filter-forgotten or simply damaged, "Jasper, that's amazing; do you feel _it_, too?" I was staring at my feet, breathing rapidly, so perhaps that explained his next reaction.

"What? Are we having an earthquake, Edward?" Jasper asked, now looking excitedly at his own feet for some signs of sidewalk shaking or gaping earth trenches.

_Fuck!_ I _was_ flustered; what-the-hell had I said? And how to recover?

"Err, I guess I was mistaken. Not quite a quake after all. False alarm." I gave him a sheepish smile.

There was a rather longish pause before he replied.

"Sorry, but as a young physician and a scientist of sorts, wouldn't it be polite to observe professional courtesy and abandon the field of earthquake prognostication to the experts?" His voice ended on a higher note than strictly necessary; he looked slightly flushed and seemed concerned about something I couldn't identify. I had an idea it might be more than my lack of quake-divination skills.

"Possibly I was wrong..." I grudingly acquisced. But what precisely did he mean by 'a scientist of sorts?' Had he called my medical credentials into question? I'd done my time in the labs. Perhaps referring him to Dr. Volturi had been a mistake, leading him to doubt my abilities. I could tell I'd have to step up my game with this one, and quickly. I tried again, seeking a more neutral topic.

"Umm, how long have you lived in California, Jasper? No one could miss that accent of yours." I hoped that was a more conventional opening. I thought I might really, really like this arrogant boy as well as wanting to rip the clothes from his beautiful body and rake my tongue over every delicious inch of him.

Giving me a look that let me know he knew I'd changed the subject, Jasper none-the-less proceeded to answer the question in a normal, non-threatening way. Oh, that reminded me of something else.

"So, you teach martial arts to the young boys, eh?" Now, was it just my imagination, or did that sound like I was possibly hinting at _something unnatural_ going on?

Fortunately, he again took no notice of my awkward phrasing, and calmly responded with a few extra details embedded in what had to be a complete paragraph. I thought he said _tae kwan do_, but there were a lot of foreign words; I didn't want to risk appearing ignorant about the subject.

Unfortunately, none of the details he'd offered seemed to stick in my overtaxed brain.

Searching for a new topic, I soon took stock of our surroundings as we waited in line. "Ah, so what are you ordering? Anything I'd like?"

That seemed safe, neutral even.

"Aren't we here for coffee?" Jasper was seeking confirmation of our earlier plans, and no doubt wondering if I was next going to plead insanity and beg off the rest of our 'date.' The idea held some appeal at the moment, given the stuttering small talk, but I wasn't giving up. I'd seen him semi-hard in my office, and I wanted more.

My fingers twitched as my hand involuntarily shot to my hair; a nervous habit I was trying to overcome. It played hell on me when I met my college friends for poker.

"I was thinking, since I asked you here, that we could have a late lunch, or an early dinner, or something. If you wanted…" I left it a question. Knowing my usual luck with potential boyfriends, Jasper would slurp down his coffee in ten minutes, and I'd never see him again.

_How to drag out this meet-up?_

Unexpectedly, Jasper came to my aid. "Hey, I'm nervous, and when I'm that way, I forget to eat. I'll have the tuna mango salad, since you're buying." He grinned. I took his show of appetite as a good omen, and felt my shoulders begin to descend from beneath my ears to a more natural location as my anxiety lessened.

When we'd placed our orders and retreated to a small table that faced the door, after a few minutes I was ready to move past the usual pleasantries.

"I was very happy you called me, Jasper. I've been thinking about you for the last week." _Since you came to my office, dropped your pants, and flashed your cock._

Looking more than casually pleased, Jasper put his hand on the table between us, palm up, and smiled sweetly. "It's working out so far, I'd say."

Wondering if I should respond to his hand signal, I tentatively moved my own hand into position, but left a narrow strip of space should I have misinterpreted his action.

"So, do you enjoy your work, Ed?" Spoken softly as he slipped his hand into mine, eyes focused on my face to gauge my reaction.

Surely he could see how pleasurable this sensation of the two of us holding hands was to me?

I squeezed his in reassurance, and felt the corners of my mouth crinkle into a crooked smile no amount of childhood dental work had been able to fix. I liked a forward-acting future boyfriend.

The remaining time at the Café was spent getting to know one another, with me gamely choking down the healthy fare, which wasn't too tasteless. In contrast, I noticed Jasper seemed to like his salad. I sincerely hoped we wouldn't have foodie-type issues if we ended up together.

When we rose to leave an hour or so later, I also hoped Jasper wasn't ready for our lunch date to be over. "I left my car just down the block; want to take a drive to the beach? I can bring you back here later to retrieve your car." I offered.

"I don't own a car, Edward. Just use my street bike for getting around this area. I keep my Harley garaged unless I'm taking a trip along the coast. Further destinations, I fly or take the train."

"If you need a ride back to your place later, I'm not doing anything." Anticipating he would say 'yes,' I'd taken my keys out of my pocket, already mentally cataloging the roads we'd be navigating in busy late-afternoon traffic.

"Sure. I was headed to the beach later today." He gestured to his clothes. "I'll catch a ride with you."

His calm acceptance of my offer was disconcerting; I wasn't exactly offering free taxi service.

Maybe he caught sight of my confusion, because he smiled at me. "If I don't make it back home tonight, it wouldn't be a tragedy."

And with that unexpected confession, he acted on the sexual tension that had flashed between us all afternoon. A few steps and he was within easy reach; my upper body turning at the same time so I was facing him. We looked into each others' eyes for a split second, and then we were mashed against one another, simultaneously opening mouths, mingling tongues, and unabashedly tasting each other on the sidewalk outside the Café. Holding onto each other tightly, as if letting go would risk the permanent loss of the other half of one's self, it was both heated and sweaty. _So good_. I was oblivious to all but him, reveling in his equally desperate need for me signaled by his urgent actions.

The unleashed physicality of his response echoed my own, and one or both of us was whimpering at the unexpected inferno wreaking havoc between our intimately fused hips. His cock was stabbing against my hipbone; it was impossible not to want to rub myself hard against him. I was in that mindless state of want when to think about 'it' was to do 'it.' I shifted, and then had the relief of absolutely blissful full contact. Cock against cock. Each of us undeniably rock hard.

I was too old to come in my pants on the sidewalk, but it was a near thing.

Some rather loud coughing from behind me finally broke into my physical communion with the blond god in my embrace. We both pulled back minutely, faces red with desire and embarrassment, eyes opened once more as we darted shy glances at our audience.

But our public make-out session on the sidewalk had accomplished one thing; we were permanently free of the possibility of any more misunderstandings.

I wanted him, and he wanted me. No question.

Firmly anchored with arms around one another's waists as we split and reformed into two individuals again, I didn't let go of him as I turned us towards my car.

"Shall we pass on the beach for now?" I murmured my desires into his ear, secure in the knowledge that both my apartment and my sheets were neat, fresh, and presentable.

It was not a question needing an answer, but a reaffirmation that we both needed each other.

I got a scorching 'yes', and a suggestion or two about things he'd like to try with me instead of swimming.

I'd never fucked a guy I'd just met, but this didn't feel like a one-time thing. Not at all.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

At Jasper's confused reaction, I give in, explaining, "No cologne, babe, just some leaky wet towelettes I'd stuffed in my back pocket. How could you mistake that cheap scent for cologne?"

"Smelled nice to me; you know your sense of smell is much more sensitive than mine. And further evidence I should be the top, Ed, not you."

"Misguided thinking; I've told you before having highly-developed olfactory nerves does not make me an obvious choice for a bottom. And I'm a doctor, I should know."

"Yeah, a doctor who runs around with knots in his hair, looking like a six-year-old. Did you bring a brush so I can detangle it before you shower? It's worse when it's wet; at least that's one thing we both agree on."

I dig in the overnight bag, finding the brush and hand it over as I obediently move to sit in the center of the room's couch. I pat the cushion next to me, but Jasper perversely monkey-climbs over the back of the furniture so he's positioned directly behind me to work on my hair. He slides a leg on either side of my shoulders, and then groans, seeing exactly what awaits him.

"Edward Mmm-ordecai Cullen, this is one of your worst messes ever," he intones in a solemn voice.

There's a pause, which some might call hopeful, if that were possible. But of course, that's a literary convention, not real life.

"Nope, sorry, Jasper Hale Whitlock, you aren't even close with that Mordecai guess. It's awful and lacking in any originality; even my middle name is not as bad as that. What other names have you tried this month?"

Jasper suddenly seems consumed by his de-tangling assignment, so I help him out by reminding him of a few of his recent guesses. "I often have perfect recall, you know. So, in order, we've previously eliminated Meecham, Meese, and Meershaum. Slow, but that's the nature of progress, I guess. When you eliminate all the possibilities, whatever's left, no matter how improbable—Ouch! That fucking hurt—was that on purpose?" I try shoving him backward off the couch onto the carpet, intent on pining him underneath me.

But there's no dislodging Jasper when he doesn't want to be pushed around. "Please stop poorly paraphrasing Sir Arthur if you want a hair left on your head, Edward," he states succinctly and with no hint of a smile in his voice.

I have a long, troubled history of regretfully failing to take heed of Jasper's casual threats; so I pause and carefully consider his words. The health of my hair is something I take quite seriously. I immediately quiet down.

"Are we playing softball with Emmett and Riley this weekend?" His fingers gently weave through my hair, loosening the knots as he poses this difficult, maddening question.

Jasper, master of all competitive sports, or so it seems to me, is fucking rabid about the overwhelming, endless opportunities for joining softball teams in WEHO. Sometimes I find myself wishing he was a tad more effeminate in his preferences, but I've become an expert at accepting the hand I was dealt on such matters.

"You can. I'm scheduled to see patients on Saturday; it's my day at the Clinic. Did you forget I was working?"

"No, I remembered the rotation. So, any objections if I go?"

"Naw, just don't kiss anyone I don't know."

I never deny him much, beyond confirmation of my full middle name. It's irritating enough being named 'Edward,' a constant reminder of a long-dead Victorian-era Queen's consort, without also being saddled with a second equally-preposterous family name. So teasing Jasper with the guessing game? It's just our bit. After three years, it's one of those things that anchors us as a couple. Someday I'll write it down for him, we'll share a laugh, and then we'll find a new game with which to torment one another.

Jasper's fingers and gentle brush strokes eventually cease moving, his arms slipping down to settle comfortably over my chest. He noisily nuzzles the top of my head before asking, "Time for your shower?"

Feeling completely relaxed for the first time all week, I agree and suggest he join me.

"But first I want to get some ice," I clarify, standing to retrieve the plastic bucket from the room's wet bar.

A few minutes later, his expression is priceless as he watches me carry the now full container I'd just assembled into the spacious, slightly decadent bathroom.

I stop just inside the door, and reaching back around the door's frame, motion with my hand for him to follow me.

"Get your tight little athletic ass in here, boyfriend," I order, as I hear him scramble to get off the couch. "There's something I want to try."

* * *

A/N: Yikes! I revised this about fifteen times. Hope it was worth it. JPOV's is next.

Music: Bloc Party's _This Modern Love_ (www (dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=-oRlpGyI1rg)


	4. And Tomorrow has become Today

**Boyfriend Swapping – Couples Style**

_Authors Note:_ _These characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer; I'm only applying the pancake make-up._

_Do you like boy-on-boy love? (I do!) If not, or if you are too young to understand the term slash, leave now. Eighteen and over only, please—don't make me ask you twice. Go, now._ _Staying? You have been warned: slashy lemons ahead._

Music: Scissor Sisters: Fire with Fire

www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=3FV2ILnnTa0&feature=fvw

**

* * *

****Chapter 4 And Tomorrow Has Become Today (JPOV)**

From Chapter 3:

_A few minutes later, Jasper's expression is priceless as he watches me carry the now full container of ice I'd just assembled into the spacious, slightly decadent bathroom._

_I stop just inside the door, and reaching back around the door's frame, motion with my hand for him to follow me._

_"Get your tight little athletic ass in here, boyfriend," I order, as I hear him scramble to get off the couch. "There's something I want to try."_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"No ice on my dick, or I'm a no show," I fire right back at him, and head over to sit in one of the stuffed chairs.

"I'll be pissed if you make me come find you."

I snicker; Edward's temper is a rare and beautiful thing. He's been mad just once in three years.

"Shaking in fear and trepidation out here, _popsicle-dick_," I intone. "And I want your word about the ice, or I'm staying put."

"What if I let you use the ice on my dick?" He's whining now.

I thought Edward and I had explored and mostly satisfied our basic fantasies early on, so I cannot even guess what is driving the sex games for him today. Ever since a painful '_massage gone-awry'_ incident with a handheld drink blender two summers ago, we'd agreed 'comfortable and safe' was usually better than the alternative. I shudder again as I recall some details from the conversation I'd had with the emergency personnel, Edward unable to speak to them without screeching to describe his…situation.

Somehow, he escaped with only a few stitches.

So, how much more trouble than that can my boyfriend get into left alone with an ice bucket? Thinking Edward is probably suitably occupied plotting something devious as he continues to taunt me from the bathroom, I sift through this afternoon's unusual events. From blindfolding me, to engaging in semi-public sex, to booking an expensive hotel, and postponing eating lunch…it was hot at first, but now I'm beyond curious. I briefly contemplate all types of explanations, including an undiagnosed medical condition or the alien abduction thing.

None seem remotely realistic; so there's really only one possibility left.

I flinch, and immediately begin smacking my forehead against the padded arm of the chair, futilely trying to erase the vivid imagery of Edward topping a naked beautiful stranger in our bed some afternoon.

I admit it's an unlikely scenario, but not impossible: after years of living together, monogamy isn't _a given _with us_,_ not that I am being unfaithful. I simply refuse to ask him for it, thereby avoiding examining my reaction if Edward were to admit he might like to keep his options open.

Irritated with myself for dredging this up again, I still cannot stop myself from ticking-off some fairly gaping holes in our three-year relationship:

_No house, and still renting a crappy two-bedroom apartment in a decidedly gay, overtly promiscuous building;_

_No wet, cold nose in the mornings and runs on the beach in the afternoons; we'd studiously avoided visiting the many pet stores and animal shelters in our area; _

_No trips back to Texas to meet my family, or former high school friends; _and the biggest one,

_No exclusive, monogamous commitment…_

Not much to indicate we share a future. _'Comfortable and safe' _does seem to be the best description.

We'd even attended the Prop 8 judicial ruling's celebrations in Santa Monica last week without once speculating about us.

And I'd been prepared to have that discussion anytime that night, if Edward had been curious. When he'd remained mute on the subject, I resolved to follow his example. The charged words _'husband-domestic partner-wedding-children'_ had beat like a litany around us all night, but I'd kept silent, waiting for a signal from him that never came. Even when others we saw had used the terms, questioning us, I'd just smiled and moved away.

At 27, I've been out for fifteen years and am still no closer to a long-term commitment with a partner. Too bad Ed didn't know I'd chosen him for that role after our first few weeks together, never intending to look back. I'd been a very naive 24 year-old.

Still, I know there is no pushing my lover when he isn't ready for change. I'm his first boyfriend of any duration beyond a few months. He'd had a couple of bad experiences, sleeping with a date after holding out for a few weeks, only to be dumped immediately after. It was a form of betrayal that was all too typical of a certain type of asshole I'd met over the years, and had carefully avoided. Ed hadn't been as discerning, and had suffered for it.

Consequently, I've been willing to give him lots of space. Perhaps I'll come to regret that decision.

I pause, hearing him shake the ice in the bucket, loudly humming the opening bars of '_Flight of the Valkyries_.' I wonder why I am feeling so unsettled. Yeah, Edward is behaving oddly, but so what?

"Ed," I call loudly; he's been occupied with his juvenile plotting for far too long now.

"Coming, dear Jay?" Some teenage-type snickering can be heard before he continues in a falsetto, "You will be soon."

"Twenty years have elapsed since you last used that line, Edward."

"Actually, just last week at work…" He dramatically clears his throat. "My meaning was unmistakable, though, right?"

"A ten-year-old could have followed your logic, sugar puss."

"Jasper…" Edward is growling now, and I briefly debate the pros-and-cons of rushing in and bowling him over. He might be the larger of the two of us, but I'm inspired and unbeatable when it comes to the stealth attack. Jasper-Ninja had been the cartoon-inspired dreams of a solitary nine-year-old boy that I haven't entirely given up on more than fifteen years later.

I slip silently across the room's wood floor, freeze in place, and take a deep breath.

His back is turned as I charge through the door and clamp his arms tightly against his torso. Letting out a whoop of surprise, Edward struggles ineffectually against me, the ice bucket careening off the wall as he tries to escape.

My boy makes a very satisfying thump as I use my feet to effortlessly take him down, pinning his shoulders with my knees.

The ice is now scattered in a wide, uneven arc pattern over the snow white plush rug arranged just so in this over-decorated bathroom. Edward grins up at me, acknowledging his defeat. I grin back as I snuggle down more comfortably against his heaving chest. Closing my eyes and feigning sleepiness, I offhandedly inform him I just might sit on him all afternoon, feels so good!

"Off of me, you fucking oaf. I'm the _dom_."

"You couldn't even accurately define _the term_ last week, vanilla wafer-boy."

"As your Master, I seriously doubt you are allowed to call me a vanilla wafer."

I lazily open my mouth to educate him yet again about this subject, but stop when I get a sparkly vision of Edward in his street clothes and wing-tips, tricked out with a leather face mask with cutouts and a studded collar. Mouth set in a permanent sneer, he walks the tip of a colorful glass toy up my leg, past my kneecap, over my tendon, and along the inside of my thigh, pressing against that spot...

My eyes snap open as his hands clamp tightly over the tops of my leg muscles, thumbs angled downward to hold me firmly in place.

"Why are your pants still on, slave?"

Rather than explain his latest mistake, I close the gap between us, intending to capture his pursed lips just as I notice his dreamy expression. It wouldn't do to snort while I'm kissing him, so I stop myself and pull back. But I've no doubt he's also imagining himself, _top-extraordinaire_, looking all hot leather-boy and towering over me in an ill-advised display of sexual dominance. Edward and his clothes fetish.

_Never going to happen, dude._

"What's going down, Ed?"

"Huh?"

"Sex with_…'ice?'_ And you actually ask '_huh?_' as if that's somehow normal for _my _boyfriend?" I hear the anxiety begin to seep into my voice. _None of that._

Edward squints at me, denial written all over his guilty face.

_Fuck!_ I was dead on—maybe he's already cheating on me?

Still, my rational mind asks _'when would_ _he find the time?_' We spend almost all our free time together, minus a rare softball game or two I slip off to enjoy. Ed's almost obsessive about being with me. Even when we are with friends, Ed's by my side, casually touching me, caressing me, holding me close. I've liked his devotion, counted on it, in fact. A lump begins to form in my throat at the thought that I may not be able to enjoy it much longer.

All those thoughts descend on me in a rush; and now Edward is watching me, assessing. _Questioning._ _Analyzing._ What he does best, when he's not being moody and unresponsive.

"I wish I could read your mind," he says. I wonder what he thinks I'm hiding.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me about, Jasper?"

We stare at each other as a distinct hush settles over our suite; I sense we are on the cusp of a cloud of melancholy wiping out our afternoon of fun.

It's time to break up this chickenshit game with the weird overtones. Guess that's my task for this adventure.

So I start. "Should I remove my shirt, boyfriend, or are you going first? I'm on top, you see." I think a moment before adding, "Or, I can swing around, pull down my cords and make you finish what you started out in the parking garage." I quickly twist to my left and snare a handful of the small, square cubes. It's an explicit threat, and Edward recognizes it as such.

In a blur, his hand covers mine and squeezes, compressing my fingers against the ice. I react instinctively, shoving his arm away so I can loosen my grip. And using one of the moves I taught him, he uses my momentum against me, toppling me over to his side and swinging his leg around my hip. I'm laughing now, because of course I recognized his intention, but find pleasure in letting my best pupil enjoy his small victory.

Growling once again, Edward gazes moodily into my face, and then lowers himself for a kiss, firmly molding his chilly lips to mine_. Someone's been chewing on the ice, _I think, then settle back to enjoy the sensation.

"I've been missing you," he mumbles against my mouth, his hand hooking around the base of my throat, squeezing as his fingers roughly massage the skin there.

"And I'm right here for you." I snake my arm beneath him to massage the bulge in his pants and reassure of him of my desire.

"Are you, Jasper?"

Before I can reply, he lifts off of me and straightens his upper body, yanking his fitted, button-front, tan silk shirt out of his loose trousers and up and over his head. But now the sweet fool is ensnared…

_Will he never learn?_ Edward's ribcage is completely exposed; this is a vulnerability just screaming for some of the tempting ice nearby. I scoop up another handful of cubes, and as he struggles with the sleeves, shoot my hand down his front and beneath his boxer shorts, releasing my glittering, frozen gift as I go. My stiff reward is within my grasp, but I'm chortling too much to truly appreciate its hard nature.

An enraged roar issues from the confines of his shirt; I use the distraction to regain the upper position with Edward. And fall against his chest, nuzzling one nipple before greedily dragging my chin across his well-defined pectoral muscles to attack the other. Back-and-forth I roam, wishing I had two mouths. He's ceased making pleading noises, but is still struggling against my…wait, is he dry-humping me? The sneak.

A few popped buttons later, his rumpled hair finally emerges from the shirt, a choice phrase gracing his smiling, ruby-colored lips, cheeks slightly pink with the exertion. "Fucking boyfriends."

I smirk, the winner yet again. And I'm back on top.

"Now, get off me so I can take off these wet slacks. I was so hard the ice melted right through my boxers. Looks like I had a Ferga-licious type accident."

"Don't expect me to re-sew those buttons for you. Did you?"

"Never crossed my mind; shirt's ruined now."

"It's a good shirt…but toss it. It's no loss to me, Ed."

"If I forcibly remove your pants, Jasper, I promise I'm going to rip the seat out. Again. Or you can take them off. Either way, it's no loss to me," he says, snidely echoing me.

"Damn, you're predictable."

I barely catch the stricken look that flashes across his boyish features, but can't understand his reaction. What did I say to upset him?

He's mine, at least for now. When he's sleeping, I often lie awake, enjoying my insomnia as I watch his nightly dreams wash over his face. And when he talks to me in his sleep, I'm compelled to gently wake him, tongue in his mouth, my hand on his cock, warring emotions of love and regret blurring my vision. He never complains.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Interlude:_

The first night we spent together was an exploration that fell far short of its goal. Well, Edward's goal, anyway.

We didn't fuck; it was too new, too raw.

I'd been nervous as hell before he showed for our coffee date; at twenty minutes past the hour, I was convinced he'd blown me off. What had possessed me to think a doctor would have anything to do with a martial arts instructor? I just wasn't in his league.

As soon as I had resolved to leave, he appeared, and began babbling an apology. I was so relieved to see Edward in person, I really couldn't follow what he was saying.

But I sensed immediately that he was just as uncertain about me. Famously, as we later laughed about, somehow we got on the topic of earthquakes, and then things nearly disintegrated.

Gradually, though, I realized Edward was just a wonk, and woefully unskilled in the art of human interaction. Seeing it firsthand, I began to warm up to him: he became more than just a seriously hot fuck. He was genuine, warm, unintentionally funny, and more than a little endearing.

He was going to make a unique impact on my life.

Even out in public, we couldn't resist each other; our first kiss outside the Café's on the sidewalk was a scorcher. And after he offered to extend our afternoon with a trip to the beach, I hinted I could stay the night at his place.

Forward of me, but again I felt certain that Edward would respond positively to a companion who took the initiative with him.

Okay, I wasn't planning our commitment ceremony just yet, but I knew this doctor dude could be more than a casual blow-job. I never fucked on a first date, ever. But sucking cock was not sex, just a release. His hard-on had felt very substantial wedged against my own. And after that kiss, I was desperate to taste him, to drown my senses in his ridges and hard flat surfaces as he unleashed his passion on me. I simply wanted him…Edward. The man. _In my mouth._

"I have very strong wrists, doctor," I murmured suggestively against his ear as the Café patrons cackled and stared at us in envy. "Wouldn't you like a demonstration?" It might be a very long walk to his car, but I had determined to make it as memorable for him as possible.

The nervous physician swallowed hard, then whispered, "I have just the tool you can practice on, Jasper."

Suppressing my chuckle, I followed-up with, "Coordination is everything when training a sensitive muscle. I've learned to keep my mouth shut and breathe through my nose." Pausing, I added, "But you'll have to remove your clothing and lie flat on the examination sheets for me to show you." Pushing it a little, I amended, "On your stomach would be preferable."

Casually brushing his hand over my ass, Edward turned his face into my neck and quickly bit down on the lobe of my ear. "Continue talking," he hissed, confidence regained, "and you'll soon find my hand down your cut-offs, massaging your dick, Jasper. And I don't give a fuck who sees us."

With that, I broke free of his arms, and spying the Volvo he'd earlier mentioned parking at the end of the block, began sprinting toward it.

Stunned, Edward was slower to follow me, but caught up in time to snatch open the passenger door so I could settle in.

Good thing I'd buckled up: Edward drove like one possessed, or with a death wish, considering it was late afternoon traffic on our drive back to his place. We didn't say much, but if actions spoke louder than words, we should have been wearing earplugs to combat the decibels bouncing around the interior of the sedan.

Arriving at his apartment, both of us no longer had any doubts about who was larger, thicker, or a darker shade when aroused. I'd had to practice severe restraint to keep from diving into his kinked curls and getting my first taste of his nectar.

Letting go of each other's meat wasn't easy, but then we all have challenges in life, some worse than others. Zipping up right then might have been one of them.

Injecting a practical note as we bolted up the stairs to his second-floor unit, Ed hurriedly advised me he could lend me some clothes since I wasn't prepared for a stay over.

"Thanks," I mumbled as best I could around his fingers in my mouth.

"Umm, come on inside, Jasper, and I'll give you the cook's tour."

Not certain if we were discussing dinner or what, I eagerly followed him through the door, only to be jammed up against the wall as he kicked the door shut. I let him overwhelm me, understanding this was an indication of Ed's lust, not some bullshit intimidation. Plus, I knew I could take him, his height advantage no match for my superior skills.

"Fuck, what about that tour, Ed? Slow down; I need a beer or a shot," I managed to gasp when he briefly resurfaced for air.

"Sorry, sorry, I've just been thinking about you all week, Jasper, and I'm…too eager, maybe."

His apologetic tone was sincere. "S'okay, Doc. Want you too, you know. I'm just thirsty. Do you have a view of the beach here?" I stood away from the front wall of his place and straightening up, took a look around the apartment.

The furnishings were bachelor sparse. All I could see was a couch covered in a dark material that looked scratchy, some straight-backed chairs, and a large-screen TV. Peering past the small stand-up kitchen, I could make out the corner of a bed with a multi-hued striped spread in the next room.

Recently vacuumed and basic—did Ed live here or just visit? Lots of books were stacked in a corner, but they looked like textbooks, not paperbacks.

"Yeah, I have a balcony with a gas grill. We can have some steaks later…" I cut him off with a choice expletive.

"No red meat."

"Ever?" The confusion was evident on his face.

"I'd make an exception in your case."

And then his mouth covered mine in earnest, and we were back to beating down our boundaries, apartment tour aborted. As my shorts, our tops, and his jeans were hurriedly shed, bunched up, and discarded in a pile in front of the door, I got my first look at his ink, and slowly traced his armband design with my tongue. He was a little ticklish, so I stopped there, commenting, "Nice work, Ed. I can't wait to lick the others, but maybe we should try out your bed.

He didn't even bother to respond; the two divining rods tenting our sticky boxers had given their stamp of approval to the plan, swinging in tandem towards his bedroom. As we shuffled our way across the carpet, clinging to each other making walking difficult, I paused in the arched doorway for a better look. Unexpectedly, Ed bent down and scooped under my legs to tuck me against him. I started to protest, but then felt him push off and propel my body through the air to land with a soft whoosh on his mattress.

He didn't exactly swan-dive to follow me, but only because he lacked a true diving board. There just wasn't sufficient give in his bedroom floor.

"Jasper, this feels so right," he breathed into my hair once he was settled on the bed, unable to ask the question I heard in his voice. Nearly immobilized with desire as his hand slowly pumped me through the opening in my shorts, I could only nod my agreement.

Satisfied, he flipped around to crawl over me on all fours, his gaze locked on my face. I bled my fingers over the scruff covering his jaw, craving that rough texture against me. I was beginning to feel the saliva pool on my tongue, the scent of his body hovering like a testosterone cloud a few inches above me. His neck was so close, no effort was necessary to pull his naked chest against mine.

So much skin touching all at once was daunting. "Now, Ed, now," I moaned, and slid my hands under his waistband and over his indents to knead his dense butt muscles. He thrashed for a moment, overcome by the multiple sensations as my tongue nestled between his teeth and my index fingers slipped into his crack, exploring.

His humming let me know he was enjoying it, but he shoved his tongue against mine after a few minutes, clearly having something of importance to say to me. "I'm a top," he whispered. "Is that a problem for us?"

Since I'd already guessed, I'd had plenty of time to think about my answer before we reached this point.

"Not today, because I don't know you well enough to fuck. Later, we can figure it out."

A groan of disappointment from my companion: "I was hoping…well, let's just see."

Of one mind now, we sighed, and with slower, sinuous, grinding moves, both managed to continue stroking and caressing each other while shrugging out of our remaining clothing. I was ready to feel Edward exactly where I'd wanted; on my lips, sucked inside my wet cheek, my fingers testing his tight carnal entrance and teasing the sensitive tissues before plunging in.

If he didn't want my dick in his ass at first, I'd find other ways to make this work.

I began twisting my hips from side-to-side, silently begging him for more friction as he covered me. And he gave it to me, lightly licking a nipple while avidly tugging at the skin covering my straining erection.

Soon, I was fisting his hair in one hand and wordlessly urging him on.

"Let go of my hair, Jasper, please," he asked, in a voice tight with need.

I complied, smoothing my palm down his neck, skimming the dark crest design, and curving around his shoulder blade until I could thread my fingers through the gold-red brush nesting in the hollow just below. My turn to tug; I was immediately rewarded with grunts of approval.

"More?" he begged in a choked voice.

I was lacking words just then, and instead shifted to show him, slumping down further on the bed as I used my free hand to pull his hips toward me and turn us on our sides, still facing one another.

He understood what I couldn't articulate, and swung his legs around so I could bury my nose in his scent, tenderly drinking in the perfume of his intimate juncture and running the edge of my blunt nails over the tip of his thick, fleshy cock.

Our bodies were ready, and he swallowed against the sensitive head just as I pointed his against my waiting mouth, moistening my lips with the pre-cum staining his sleek surface. The urge to piston my hips against his face was nearly overwhelming, but I held back, concentrating on milking him of each drop, careful to be neither too soft nor too rasping in my attentions.

Edward wasn't as focused; taller than me, he released my dick from his mouth with a barely audible pop, and guiding my upper leg over his shoulder, he was able to position my ass for his scrutiny.

His voice was deep and throaty after he had admired me fully. "You're so beautiful, Jasper. A perfect, pink hole for me." I felt his tongue then as it began an extended, excruciatingly slow wet caress over and down my smooth sac to the base of my balls. He mouthed each one in turn, sucking gently as I moaned my approval. I was squirming, and Edward soothed me, adjusting my legs again so he could fully spread me open. He was stronger than I thought, locking my thighs beneath his triceps, my cock resting against the slick, heated skin of his chest. I began to feel the telltale tremors as he both butterfly kissed my hole and sensuously tasted me, nipping and tonguing all the skin he could reach. Soon, he began pushing the tip of his little finger though the tight ring, searching, and I jerked several times in ecstasy.

More than distracted by the stimulation, I'd been sucking on his glans, thumb and fingers circling and cupping his nuts in my palm when I could remember where I was. I couldn't see them, but by their shape and feel, Edward was very close. I wanted to encourage his gentle forward surges against my mouth, but had to stop him now before he went too far.

I regretfully disengaged, and reminded him, "Edward, not today, babe."

"Fuck, I want you, want to be inside you..." Just as I began to protest, he calmed me with his next words, his fingertips painting heart shapes around my opening. "But not today, lover. We'll wait."

Nimbly rearranging us both, my legs came out from underneath his arms and went back up to rest on his deltoids, his lips surging over my full length. I was too aroused to wait, and he was soon tasting my cum on his tongue as I groaned my release around his erection.

He held back until he had swallowed everything I had, then his hip action increased, fucking my mouth as I'd wanted him to do all along. He came with a final hard push, hitting the back of my throat as I fought not to gag, my arms twisted around his slender, muscled hips, hugging his ass to me.

_Edward. In my mouth._

I wanted more.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Recalling our first time together, I'd like to recapture that breathless exploration and frenzied release. But before I can ask him for some insights into what he expects from me, ice-wise, we both hear a familiar ringtone from the next room where he dropped his phone.

"Better get that, Jasper. I told them to hold my calls unless there was an emergency."

Sighing in resignation, I let him up and he avoids looking at me as he walks to the phone, me following.

Staring at the screen, he shakes his head at me, and answers. "Hey, Mom, you never call me at work. Everything all right?"

It's a small consolation that it's not the Clinic calling; but his eyes cloud over as he listens to his mother. I hear the sound of her voice, but cannot make out what she's saying that is clearly causing him distress.

"There's nothing I can do about it now; Jasper and I are away from home today." He waits, and then interrupts her. "Listen, when he arrives in town this weekend, I'll schedule time to meet with him…." He hesitates, his mother's agitated response louder now.

"No, not an appointment; we'll come by the house on Saturday afternoon when I finish up my shift at the Clinic. I promise." I know Edward so well; he's promising something he doesn't want to do, but he is soothing his mother, putting her first.

"I appreciate you letting me know, Mom. Talk to you later," he finishes up, cutting the conversation short.

Turning to me now, he holds out his arms for my embrace. I comply, tucking my chin under his as I turn my face away from him. I don't want him to think I'm accusing him of anything just yet.

Silence follows, but I don't ask questions; he'll speak when he's decided what he wants us to do.

Shifting his weight, Ed turns me to face the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the bird sanctuary. "Looks like another foggy day in L.A. Are you hungry, baby?"

"How much longer do we have this room, Edward? I didn't know you could rent at expensive hotels by the hour," stretching my arms to lock behind his waist and pulling his hips into me.

"All night, and in spite of that conversation with my mother, we will enjoy our stay."

My excitement at the news that we are spending the night is dampened by the hint of a serious problem. I know Edward inherited his nurturing from Elizabeth, who adopts every stray, animal or human, and tries to help them, sometimes with disastrous results. I wait for him to reveal the latest mess she's coerced him into fixing.

"Peter is coming into town this weekend; he just got out of the drug rehab program in San Francisco and doesn't have a place to stay."

I can see what's coming; Peter is Edward's cousin, the adopted son of Elizabeth's sister who died several years ago.

Edward continues, "So I promised to talk with him…well, I promised for the two of us. Sorry, Jasper. We need to help him find a job, if we can."

Before I can protest my lack of qualifications for this assignment, Edward shakes his head and increases the pressure of his embrace against my back.

"There's more, I'm afraid." He peeks around to give me a sheepish look, letting me know in advance that I won't like what's coming. "She thinks we should rent our spare bedroom to him for a few months."

"I don't agree. Plus, I've never met him. Do I have a vote, Edward?"

"Baby, of course. There's no way I'd ever agree to a roommate without your approval." He kisses the top of my head, releasing a low hum against my skull.

Right now, that sound is annoying me, and I motion for him to let me go.

"I meant, I don't want your cousin living with us."

"Then I'll tell my mother it's off the table. No discussion."

I marvel that even without talking to me, Elizabeth has somehow been able to make me feel in the wrong about this subject, courtesy of Edward.

"Lover, I think the only thing I'm capable of deciding right now is that you need a shower. And I want to soap you up and get us off. We can save the ice-capades for later, after dinner. And we are definitely using lube." I give him a significant look; there'll be no relaxing of our usual precautions, much as either of us might wish for it.

"Love you, Jigsaw. Always." And Edward winks at me before folding me back against him for another kiss.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A/N: Thanks for reading. I've also posted some links to more photos of these boys on my profile if you are interested. And Kira Kiralina made a hot banner for this story that hints of events to come!


	5. They Stumble Blindly

**Boyfriend Swapping - Couples Style**

_A/N: These characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. They look to me for directions because they can see I'm the one holding the map. _

_Do you like boy-on-boy love? (I do!) If not, or if you are too young to understand the term slash, leave now. Eighteen and over only, please—don't make me ask you twice. Go now. Staying? You have been warned: slashy lemons ahead._

_**Note:** This is not a light-hearted look at an emotional subject. There will be angst combined with as much humor as possible. I always feel cheated if I don't get an HEA. I expect this to be a dark exploration of two imperfect individuals who have all the pieces, but haven't worked-out how they fit together. This is not a hanky-alert (I don't really like tears, myself.) I am using this fic to hone what I understand about this world. It's a subject dear to me and fingers crossed I can handle it with both the sensitivity and the heat it deserves. The CA ruling on gay marriage was also an impetus to writing._

_I'm going forward with my plan to include both the present day and the beginning of their relationship in each chapter. In truth, I could probably offer the 'inception' sections as outtakes or a separate story, but it's a device I like at present. If it seems too cumbersome, I'll pull it out and plop in outtake chapters._

_I posted a link to the photos/slideshow of Jasper/Edward muses on my profile if you are interested._

_**Music:**__ Rufus Wainwright: Across the Universe _

_www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=cAe1lVDbLf0&ob=av2e_

_

* * *

**Chapter 5 They Stumble Blindly As They Make Their Way (EPO)**_

* * *

**From Chapter 4: (JPOV)**

_I marvel that even without talking to me, Elizabeth has somehow been able to make me feel in the wrong about this subject, courtesy of Edward._

_"Lover, I think the only thing I'm capable of deciding right now is that you need a shower. And I want to soap you up and get us off. We can save the ice-capades for later, after dinner. And we are definitely using lube." I give him a significant look; there'll be no relaxing of our usual precautions, much as either of us might wish for it._

_"Love you, Jigsaw. Always." And Edward winks at me before folding me back against him for another kiss._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Jasper's body is tucked tightly against mine, a smile playing over my lips before we kiss, but my thoughts are focused elsewhere. I'm replaying the vision of his sweet mouth forming the four syllables confirming my latest torment: _'Predictable.'_

I roll the entire phrase around in my head for perhaps the twentieth time, cringing at the finality of the statement.

"_Damn, you're predictable." _

Yeah. It had definitely _**stung.**_

And over-thinking its meaning had left me too distracted to anticipate and dodge the verbal hand-grenade my mother had lobbed at my head. Instead, I had fallen headlong into her trap: '_fix your Cousin Peter, and do it quick.' _

_Oh, and if doing so torpedoes you and Jasper by introducing a third into your lives, c'est la vie!_ _Family first!_ (I'd added that last part on my own, but it didn't matter that she'd failed to give voice to the sentiment. I always knew what Elizabeth was thinking.)

So now I'd somehow agreed to meet with Peter on Saturday, and roped Jasper into the unpleasant task of helping me sort out my cousin's drug-fueled existence.

The bathwater I'd drawn for our little afternoon game was drained and long-forgotten when we step from the shower, sleepy and thinking 'cat-nap' after assisting each other in decorating the shower tiles with creamy bursts of our jizz. I casually suggest we don clothes and leave the suite to roam the Bird Sanctuary's trails, earning me a dirty look from Jasper.

"Let's see…my choices are snuggling naked with you under these so-soft cream-colored sheets and comforter, or playing voyeur in a bird sanctuary? I need a minute to think."

Looks like the wonders of the ornithological world will have to wait.

I sink beneath the cool, fresh sheets, and he follows, settling his head on my chest, his arm relaxed and loosely holding me. The room is amazingly quiet, and Jasper's slow susurration as he begins to let go is the most comforting sound.

As my partner drifts in and out of consciousness, I envy his untroubled thoughts. The timing of the phone call from my mother doesn't surprise me. Whenever I find myself ready to move forward, it seems family obligations intrude and make me question everything. And that includes the ongoing mystery of why Jasper stays with me when I'm so damn _predictable._

I'm not blind to the fact that certain people see dollar signs when they dream about snagging someone like me. But the reality is just the opposite. Money will be an issue for me and my partner until school loans are retired. And I'm still driving the same car I had in med school—no Maserati or Mercedes for us.

Jasper has offered to moonlight as a bodyguard or work security at entertainment events, but every time I imagine him being injured as Bieber's screaming underage fans flail out of control, I flip. Truth is, I like coming home to our crappy two-bedroom and finding Jasper making dinner for us, ready with a kiss and a glass of wine, his warm eyes and soothing banter washing away my workday moodiness.

I readily admit I'm a domesticated bore, with no signs of change on the horizon. But losing Jasper because of it? A buzzing builds in my ears as I finally come to terms with what I must do.

_Edward predictable? No more!_ When I'm back at my office, I'll send the damn email invitation I've already drafted to the happy, but evidently equally bored couple, Carlisle and Garrett.

'_Friends…and more,_' is a small price to pay for keeping my partner at my side.

It takes a while, but eventually I settle back down, strangely less relieved than I expected now that I've finally made the decision. Still, I'm eager to get on with it; it's nearly impossible to control my restless twitching in the bed. This is the best plan, although dinner and a movie aren't guaranteed to lead to group groping. But I don't want to risk inviting in another single man from the LA Weekly personals, and then having him come between Jasper and me. There's safety in numbers.

"Why are you muttering about arithmetic?" Jasper's sleepy voice sounds against my chest.

"Nothing."

"I'm asking. Don't tell me? Your choice," he replies, put out. And more alert.

"So I'm asking you; what do you want?"

"You. Oh, that's right, excusemegirl: I just had you."

"Actually, Jigsaw, we sort of had each other, but is that all you want?" Sassy boy needs a lesson. I let my arm drift down and pinch hard the delicious heft of his sleek rump.

"Oww," he fakes, chuckling. "Is this a serious conversation, sugar britches?"

I pause, not sure how much I want to reveal just yet. What if Carlisle and Garrett reject _**us**_?

But watching his mouth as he speaks, I'm reminded he tastes like fresh berries and cream on my tongue, and I lose the will to bring up what I've labeled the _"friends…and more" _subject. I move forward for a kiss, only to find the vertical edge of his hand blocking my access.

"Now that you're awake again," I begin, arching an eyebrow as I admit defeat, carding my fingers through his wavy blond, sleep-crumpled hair.

I get distracted; Jasper gets focused.

"I'm awake enough to wonder where this is going," the tension in his voice noticeable.

Sighing, I give up. "Ever think about the future, Jasper?"

A sharp intake of breath; and I feel him barely jerk against me, as if I'd struck him.

"Sure, doesn't everyone?"

"Except us?" I ask.

Jasper uses the silence that follows to restlessly pull out of my grasp, letting me know he's finished cuddling for the moment.

"Serious conversation time, right? I think I'd like a glass of water, or a beer. Is it too early for a beer?" Jasper's voice trails off as he moves to sit up, feet planted on the rug, back turned toward me. Usually just the sight of so much of his skin is enough to make me pop to attention, but today his back looks too young and vulnerable. I don't have to see his eyes to know he's hiding something from me.

When I don't answer quickly enough for him, he stands and moves towards the small kitchen area. I watch the muscles ripple in his back as he stretches, cradling his arms overhead, keeping limber. At the sound of the tap water, my stomach growls, and I remember our uneaten lunches. He's thinking the same, because I hear the sounds of the microwave being used.

"Is this place stocked with beer?" I call out, more loudly than necessary as I wonder when we'll be able to continue our discussion.

"Yessir; there's a six-pack of hand-crafted beer here in the refrigerator. And some Merlot. Glass for you?"

"Sure," and I stand and walk naked into the next room to find him watching the front of the microwave, impatiently waiting for the timer.

I wrap my arms around his slender waist and lean into him, laying my head on his shoulder. I mumble into his so solid flesh, "Thanks for heating up the food, Jasper. You're always the practical one, remembering our basic needs and seeing that they are met. You take good care of us, baby."

Usually this sort of closeness triggers a bigger reaction from my lover, but now he impatiently pushes me back off of him, wiggling a bit as he replies, "Just because I'm hungry. Otherwise I wouldn't have moved a muscle."

Knowing that lobster ravioli wasn't the only reason behind his hasty exit, I don't give up.

"Doesn't booking The Inn's best suite earn me even a token look inside your thoughts?" I joke as I snag the glass of red he'd poured for me, giving it more attention than the indifferent year deserves.

He moves purposefully around the small space, finally forced to look at me as I'm blocking the exit. "Your call, Edward," he mutters.

Sullen Jasper doesn't visit often, and I already want him to leave.

"Shouldn't we be thinking about where we are headed?" His unexpected reluctance has me feeling slightly off-balance, and it's not the wine.

"I want what you want, Edward. Nothing's any different than it was two weeks ago, right?"

Wondering why he's qualified his statement with a timeline, I slurp my Mondavi in silence.

The ding of the microwave galvanizes him into action. When he has our food set up on the unit's dining table, we both settle quickly into chairs, heads down. We usually take plates and eat on the couch at home, but this unit's couch is in pristine condition and informal doesn't fit our mood just now.

We eat in silence for a few minutes before I slip my hand over to snare his and lift them both to the tabletop.

"Yeah?"

"Different to be together here, cocooned like this, I think."

"Eating together? Not so unusual, Edward," he scoffs.

"Don't be obtuse. It's like a mini-vacation. We should do it more often."

"Stay in expensive hotel suites, or eat a late take-out lunch? Which one?"

I'm not exceptionally intuitive, even if I am a healer, but I can field this one.

"Baby, why are you being hostile? Aren't you having fun? I didn't plan this, so it's not like I didn't give you a chance to say 'no.' So, umm, would you have said 'no' to me if I'd asked?"

A guilty look I rarely see on Jasper's face briefly appears before he fixes his gaze on his lunch. "It's my fault, really Edward. Lots of changes are going on around us, while we seem to be stuck on hold. Not much different happens with us…"

I cut him off before he can go further; the word _'predictable'_ once again floating in front of my now closed eyes.

"I agree we are re-plowing the same fields, baby, but hear my plan to alleviate that."

I know he's still next to me: his breathing is slow and steady. I plunge ahead.

"It's all part of what I was trying out today." I hesitate, fully cognizant I've made an important decision about _us_ without consulting _him._ What if he isn't ready to do some experimenting? His next words reassure me I'm making the right choice.

"I may have said I was bored, but today's a start at easing it. And it's not serious…"

I lean over to run my finger up his arm, over his shoulder, skimming his cheek to land on the tip of his straight, finely formed nose.

"Let me decide my level of concern over your happiness and pleasure, dear h…heart." I stumble over that troublesome "H" but recover quickly. "I think we need to get out and meet some new friends. Emmett and Riley are steady, but they are glorified fuck-buddies with softballs for brains, not like us. If you agree we could use some fresh blood, leave it to me. Do you trust me, Jazz?"

"Of course I do. But what do you…"

I swipe my fingers across his lips to cease his questioning. "Internet dating," I offer, confident I've explained everything.

"Isn't that for singles…" He stops, catching his error.

"We've been together for years; I thought maybe we could try meeting other gay _couples_. Guys who are…" I hesitate, "more similar to us. Expand our options; God knows there are a lot of us here in Los Angeles."

"So nothing like Match-dot-com, or Chatroulette, or Grindr..." he finishes with a chuckle.

I groan and shake my head.

"A new gay couple—do you mean, arrange to meet them? Take in a baseball game? Better yet-how about a softball game?" I interrupt with a louder groan, and Jasper grins. "Or we could go surfing or biking?" I grimace at the thought of pedaling bikes along the PCH or fending off Great Whites mistakenly eager for a bite of Edward, and he reacts accordingly.

"Hmmm." Feigning deep concern, he offers, "Maybe just a picnic in the park? We'll sit on our butts on comfy cushions and make polite chatter. Just, no other doctors, Eddie. Someone I can talk to would be a plus."

I'm not sure, but knowing Jasper, I briefly wonder if he has another agenda in agreeing to meet a new couple. Of course, I'm actually the one with the agenda, but since we are back in sync, I don't bother to elucidate the other part of my plan.

"No physicians, and no shop talk, Jigsaw. I promise."

A grateful smile tells me I'm good to proceed. "I'm finished eating, Ed. Why don't you refill the bucket from the ice maker in the hallway while I stack plates in the sink?"

I nod in agreement before instructing him, "And find our lube, baby."

We split up to accomplish our separate missions.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Interlude: (Three years ago)_

'_New and unexpected'._ That's a good description of what it was like to be with Jasper. _'Mostly exhilarating, but oddly comfortable' _also worked. I was thinking 'boyfriend' when I hooked up with him, but after five weeks, and not a day spent apart since he stayed the first night at my apartment, it was more. _More _meant dinner together that he fixed for us, weekends staying in to watch movies, read, or putter, and nights sleeping soundly in each other's arms. And rushed mornings of hurried kisses, hot showers, and confirmation we'd see each other again at the end of the day. It just kept expanding, scratching itches I hadn't even known existed.

And I wasn't prepared for it. I needed advice, and at 27 going to my mom, Elizabeth, was out-of-the-question.

The first phone call I made was to Leah, my friend from U.C.L.A. med school. She was six years older and lived in Seattle. She'd returned to school after a few years as a public health administrator and found her calling serving as a General Practitioner at the _Quileute_ Reservation's public health center. She made the drive to La Push once a week and stayed over for four days. It was a difficult schedule, but she and her wife Alice seemed to thrive on it.

Leah and Alice had met in high school and had a commitment ceremony after undergrad. I didn't really understand or much like the sprite that inhabited a body my friend seemed very fond of, so naturally it was Alice who answered the phone when I called while Jasper was out.

"Alice!" I exclaimed in a jovial voice that sounded forced even to me.

"Edward, isn't it? Leah is outside in the garage; shall I call her? It is urgent? Someone sprain an ankle, skin a knee perhaps, and you need a consult with my GP?" Without waiting for my response, she dropped the phone and flitted off; I doubted I was the only person who found her annoying. It was too bad, because as a high school music instructor we should have shared some common interests besides Leah. But we didn't.

Several long dull minutes passed before Leah gave me a warm greeting in her lilting, softly accented voice, reminding me why we remained friends in spite of the annoyance that was Alice. After the small talk, she politely inquired about the motivation for my call; I didn't randomly contact her on a weeknight.

"Nothing much; just the usual at work. But, I'm seeing someone." I cautiously began, even though Jasper was the only reason I'd called her, to be honest.

I finally had a boyfriend, and I needed advice.

"Tell me about him, Edward. You sound excited, for a Physiatrist, anyway." I pictured her smile as the G.P. crisply goaded me.

I ignored the familiar quip, and began with my carefully plotted recitation. (It was impossible for me break old habits and act impulsively after years of self-imposed discipline and sacrifice. I'd written up the main points earlier in anticipation of this call.)

She listened without interrupting, for which I was grateful, then asked me his name. Oh, yeah.

"Jasper. He's over at his place, collecting some pads he needs for his classes tomorrow. Guess I also forgot to mention he's a martial arts teacher. Very good; almost made it to the Olympics a few years ago."

"Did you forget to mention he's living with you?"

"Umm, not officially. Not yet, anyway."

"Sure. Is he as beautiful as you?"

I was surprised she would focus on such a superficial topic, and I began to feel a small amount of urgency; he wouldn't be gone forever.

"He's perfect, Leah." And I hesitated, because I wasn't too sure how to ask my question.

"What it is, Edward? You know you always have my support and love. Alice's too, of course."

I suppressed a snort at her amendment, and took a few minutes to describe how we were always together, noting that I didn't like him being gone tonight.

"Hmmm, Edward, are you calling me to…what, exactly?" There was a long pause, and then she continued with, "Are you worried about him?"

"No, I'm just wondering…" I didn't finish because I realized she couldn't answer my question.

"He sounds like more than just a casual boyfriend, right?"

"Jasper is someone I'd like you to meet soon. You and Alice," I also amended, insincerely,

"Yikes! When are you coming for a visit?" M.D. though she was, Leah was not above squealing when she was excited. I had to hold the phone away from my ear as she told Alice the blazing news. I heard what sounded like a _'humpf' _from Alice before Leah returned, seeking actual dates.

"Listen, my friend, it's sort of a maelstrom right now, what with work and Jasper. Maybe in a few weeks, we could fly up for the weekend? Am I inviting myself, being rude, thoughtless Edward?" I finished up lamely.

"Never. I've asked you many, many times to come stay with us. You have an open invitation, sweetie. You and now your Jasper; you've made me very curious to meet this man who has captured your interest. If not your heart," she slyly added.

We spent a few more minutes comparing calendars, and settled on the last weekend of the following month. Agreeing once again to call each other more frequently, I finally escaped without having posed the question I called to discuss. I concluded it was probably because I was a spineless coward.

The apartment was so empty now without him in it; it reminded me of how it was before I met him. Fortunately, it wasn't long before Jasper's key was in the door and he greeted me with a tight, if impatient embrace. He dropped his stuff behind the couch as he described his driving adventures to me. He didn't drive a car that frequently, so he was very careful when using my Volvo. I would have gone with him tonight if I hadn't wanted to speak with Leah.

When I inquired if he might be interested in spending the weekend with Leah and Alice, his enthusiastic confirmation was tossed over his shoulder as he headed to his laptop to begin checking airfares.

I rose slowly to follow him. Watching him work, I was content to observe nothing more challenging than how my palm fit precisely over the bare skin on the back of his neck. He was hunched over the desk, calling out Expedia and then Orbitz fares, as I lazily listened to his running commentary about choices versus preferences.

"Jasper."

He stopped and lifted his eyes from the screen in question.

"A weekend with two lesbians; are you going to be okay with it? You know even I find Alice annoying."

"Women?" He leered, exaggerating the sound before continuing, "Bring on your girlfriends, Eddie, I can handle them," he finished, clearly joking with me.

"They are married. I mentioned that fact, right?" I knew I sounded anxious, but couldn't help it.

"Will they insist on assigning us single gay boys to separate bedrooms, then?"

Before I could think of a good comeback, he continued, "No more than 10-to-15 times. You never said anything about kids, though."

"Alice can't, and Leah isn't ready, but I know her clock is ticking."

He gave me a funny look, but didn't voice his question. This one didn't require any mind-reading.

"No, Leah has never raised _that_ issue with me."

"Aren't you her closest male friend? Would you say yes? Or is that too personal for me to ask, Edward?"

Having tasted every inch of him, and vice versa, I could not imagine that any topic would be too personal for me to share with him.

"You can ask me anything, Jasper. I mean it. And I don't know about 'giving my seed' to Leah and Alice. I'd have to formulate some ground rules, visit with an attorney first, I guess."

"Slow and steady, that's my Edward."

Maybe it was because we were making long-term plans, and discussing the future, but there was more I needed to say to him.

"I'd want to know how you felt about it, too, Jasper. Your opinion interests me. If you said no, I'd have to decline." I swallowed, because although this was easier than I'd thought, I knew we both had more to say. Jasper jumped right in.

"I _would _like to be a father someday, Edward."

The sincerity I saw in his blue eyes triggered a wave of emotion in me that surprised me. I reached for his hand as he did the same, and we connected, fingers entwined and gripping hard.

"We could be fathers together, I think," and I pulled him up for a sweet, long kiss, eyes closed, strong arms circling necks and waists. Hips pressed close, we each murmured the other's name in satisfaction, reveling in the other's warmth.

"I love you," I whispered to him for the first time, so low because I hadn't breath to fill my lungs.

I watched his expression as he opened his eyes, and it was as if he'd swallowed the sun; light and energy poured from within to illuminate his face. I'd swear the room glowed brighter; anyone standing in the dark outside our windows would surely have seen the surge in lumens.

But he didn't speak, didn't mimic the dulcet sounds I made. He found my lips again and again, the emotions surfacing in his brilliant, shining eyes before the lids dropped, and I joined him in the overwhelming sensation of sharing my heart through my touch.

"Let me show you how _I feel_," he finally whispered back.

I let Jasper lower me onto my back, a limpet fastened to his form as we stretched out on the couch. Jasper's intent with our positioning was undeniable.

My legs were open and bent up against my chest to give him better access. He shuddered in satisfaction, and settled in between them to grind hard against my cock. We both enjoyed the slightly painful friction from dry-humping one another, and only ceased when the metal zipper on my pants became too toothy against my tender parts.

"Edward, love, is tonight my turn, please?" It was a simple question, one in fact that I'd been waiting for with some misgivings.

But tonight, emotions running high, I was ready for him. I was the dominant partner, or at least I surmised I was, but for Jasper, I was more than willing to be bottom to his top, if that was what he wanted from me.

Because what I wanted _from him_ had suddenly become much clearer to me.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Present day: (continued)_

I step back into our suite, bucket in hand, and right away notice the candles Jasper has lit and placed around the rooms. I pause, surprised at the change in the lighting, when I catch sight of his nude form gliding towards me, my gaze inevitably drawn to the gentle bobbing between his legs.

Jasper's joy is in giving himself fully to each experience, no matter the type. I've come to understand that he wasn't made with all the pockets for holding doubts and concerns I've always accepted as normal.

_Screw the bathroom_, I decide, _I'm doing this here_. I struggle to unbutton and tug off the slacks I'd hastily pulled on earlier and watch my lover's expression change from one of welcome to stormy lust.

"Baby, down on your knees, now!" I bark at him after affirming we have everything we need.

My boyfriend, elaborating on my orders just enough, spins and drops to all fours, splaying his legs for me as he eases his shoulders to the carpeted surface.

To my way of thinking, naked Jasper on his knees is the most beautiful sight in the world, second only to watching his face in the throes of an orgasm.

I set the half-filled ice bucket within easy reach, and straddling him, press the head of my erection into the cleft between his buttocks. He's at the optimum height to create an erotic saddle for me to slide onto, my balls slotted into his inverted "V" and lightly brushing him. We enjoy playing at the mock-penetration before I grab a single ice cube, already slippery as I grip it gingerly.

"Ready, baby?"

He shakes his ass underneath my hips in response, and it's time to improvise; inconveniently, there was no free instruction set when I'd Googled the subject of 'sex with ice' this morning. I scoot backwards off him and lower myself, using my knee to spread his legs further apart. Grabbing the lube, he reaches behind to drizzle a generous amount on me and him before squirting some into his hand, and we're on.

Curving my hand underneath his rib cage, I find his aroused nipple and tentatively rub the edge of the rapidly dwindling cube over the pebbled surface.

"Oh, fuck!" is the expletive from Jasper.

"No turning back now, Jigsaw," I mutter.

He nods and visibly steels himself for more of my loving teasing, reminding me, "Not my cock."

I think the contrast between applying the ice followed by bathing his cock with my tongue would be amazing, but it's his body, not mine.

I gather more ice, and feet flat on the floor on either side of him, I tease each of his nipples with the edge of the cubes as I continue to slowly, sensuously slide my dick up and down his lubed crack. He shakes a little, but settles into the sensations, rolling his hips in tandem with my moves, his head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted.

With the cubes now melted away from our combined body heat and the abrasion, I wrap an icy hand around his cock and bend forward to capture his mouth, slipping a shard of ice I hold on my tongue underneath his. He shivers at the jolt of cold, and I stroke him like the wanton little pet that he is, tangling our tongues as I keep the ice firmly in place.

His moans are reverberating against my lips as I pull off to gather more cubes, and he drops his head down and arches his back, directing me. His skin, tanned and silky, quivers beneath the glide of the cubes over his neck and along his shoulder blades.

When I hesitate, he whispers for me to keep going. I delicately trace his spinal cord with my chosen instrument, and then circle down and back over the top of each swelling mound of flesh. He's shivering and moving erratically; my own hip movements are much slower as I contemplate the ungodly artistry that made these muscles beneath me.

I take several long, luscious sips of the watery residue left on his delicious golden skin before lowering myself between his thighs, cupping the front of each one as I plant my lips in a long, wet, smooch at the beginning of his divide. Sucking another cube between my teeth, I ghost it along the backs of his thighs and go low enough to skim the base of his balls. He moans in protest; and I'm suddenly longing to see his face.

Flipping him over, I lovingly map his erotic zones with a fresh cube as he lies helpless and immobile beneath me, a soft smile appearing briefly when I glance up at him. I absently notice my fingers are no longer chilled as I begin pumping his shaft again and remedy that immediately, careful to remember he can't handle the gelid shapes placed directly on more tender skin.

When he halts me, shoving a palm against my shoulder, I move so he can return to his knees, the invitation of his spread legs telegraphing desire directly into my cock.

I carefully seat a few cubes on the relative flat at the center of his spine as he squirms in discomfort, watching in fascination as a trickle of frozen melt slips along the dark groove leading to his puckered skin.

I'm hesitant about doing what I really want, and Jasper senses it.

"Ed," he encourages me, "I'm ready for it." And that's all it takes.

Dropping more chips onto his back, I track them as they glissade over his hills and valleys before hitting the carpet around us. Quickly grasping my cock, I jerk it roughly to distract myself from the shock of my frigid fingers. He chuckles at my involuntary gasp of pain and tilting his waist, spreads his knees further to give me a better view before locking his ankles over the back of my calves.

I nearly purr in appreciation as he settles his cheek against the carpet to watch me make love to him, feverish blue eyes glimmering back at me from the candlelight.

Coating myself thoroughly with the lube, I position the head of my stiff cock just at his entrance. His breathing is labored as he writhes suggestively, exhorting me to hurry.

Satisfied he doesn't want my fingers first, I push steadily inside, taking him, his walls firm against my pressure, his whimpers urging me forward.

It's so tempting to forget the plan, but when I'm deep inside him, I stop myself. My eyes fasten on the erotic display, his dark ass lips barely visible around my engorged member as I reach again for the bucket to my left.

"Are you kidding?" he blurts, as he feels me minimally shift and guesses my motives.

The cubes are melting, and I drop a small one into the juncture where my cock is buried in him. Both of us let out small yelps as the unfamiliar texture finds purchase, and then I begin grinding my hips in a circular motion, brushing against his prostrate, the ice a smaller burn against the building friction. Jasper reaches beneath him and fishing, finds me, lifting and tugging on my balls. _Feels so good!_ I caress the large mushroom-shaped head of his dick, and we fall into our familiar rhythm.

Too soon we need more ice, and a break in the action before I cum too early. I still and land a smart slap against his butt cheek, adding another form of burn for my lover. I use his momentary distraction to catch a clump of his sweat-dampened hair, yanking steadily as I bend his neck toward me. He lets me lead him for a second, but easily twists away, freeing me to search out the biggest cubes still left in the container.

With no warning, I release a small handful into an unsteady pile at our joining, and we both yell before bucking uncontrollably to dislodge the frigid lumps.

"Jesus, fuck, Ed, fuck me now!" he shouts angrily as he forces his hips hard against mine. The runoff from the cubes finds the lowest point, and hits my tight sac before dribbling down the inside of my thigh. But I'm way too overheated and buried too deep to shrivel from my mistake. It takes just a moment before I can shake off the unexpected jolt, and begin riding Jasper again as hard as he likes it. "Fucker," he soon groans in warning above the sound of our slapping flesh, but I've already lost the measured glide and retreat, already felt the beginnings of the sweet frenzy overtake me. Hooking my hand over the top of his shoulders, I forcibly pull Jasper upright against my chest, both of us on our knees, crushing the small points of ice between my belly and his ass. With a few short, stabbing strokes from me, I assure my lover is equally ready.

I'm almost there, but still greedy for more, I straighten out his leg, and relish in the deeper penetration as I wrap my arm around his waist and shove his hand away. "You're mine," I growl against his neck as I close fingers around him and begin flicking my wrist up and down his iron-hard length, faster than my eye can follow. "Now, baby, I'm so close, want it now," I harshly insist. Jasper responds with several guttural moans, shifting his hips against my thighs in equal need, and begins clenching his ass around my cock.

My hot breath huffing below his ear, he's able to reach my mouth, and we kiss deeply as I feel the mounting fire low in my belly. My thrusts are frantic and out-of-step as the orgasm spreads outward, and I arch and shout his name as I shoot my semen into his ass. His vivid cursing signals his release, his legs flexing beneath me. In moments, I'm feeling his weight bear down on my sensitive, still throbbing cock as he spews his cum.

His ass is so warm and fits me so well, I don't want to break free of him, but we need to clean-up. I reluctantly ease out as he crumples forward to the floor, and stumble into the kitchen to find a cloth towel. After his hard, grunted climax, I could easily whip his ass, if I didn't love it and him so much. Instead, I clean his butt and belly and throw the towel away from us.

Soft endearments pass between us before I tug the coverlet off the bed and wrap it around his limp form, snugging a pillow under his head. Pulling him close, I'm tired and just content to cuddle on the thickly padded carpet until he feels like moving again.

Running my fingers through his shiny blond waves, I watch as his face relaxes into sleep. And this time, I follow him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A/N: I intend to move the story faster now. Thanks for reading.

Please don't forget to show your support on October 20 by wearing purple!


	6. Need Some Time Off Frm That Emotion

**Boyfriend Swapping – Couples Style**

A/N: _These characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. Do you like boy-on-boy love? (!) If not, or if you are too young to understand the term slash, leave now. I'm writing this without benefit of a beta, so there's really no one to blame but myself. _

_**Musical muse & chapter title:**__ George Michael's version of 'Faith' youtube (dot) com / watch?v=6ISHYtccEs0 (I like 'Freedom' as well.)_

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* * *

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**Chapter 6 Need Some Time Off from That Emotion (JPOV)**

**From Chapter 5: (EPOV)**

Soft endearments pass between us before I tug the coverlet off the bed and wrap it around Jasper's limp form, snugging a pillow under his head. Pulling him close, I'm tired and just content to cuddle on the thickly padded carpet until he feels like moving again.

Running my fingers through his shiny blond waves, I watch as his face relaxes into sleep. And this time, I follow him.

* * *

**Present Day: **

I've sliced the chicken breasts into strips, and dropped the meat into the heated peanut oil. It sizzles and pops as I chop the bok choy, carrots, green onions, and straw mushrooms. Humming, I focus in on the task; I don't want to lose a finger to my Chuka Bocho. When an errant lock of limp hair slips free of the rubber band I rescued from the onions, I curse loudly and impatiently swat it out of my eyes.

I'm distracted because today's session with my therapist did not go well. The soothing strawberry-scented candle burning in the corner of her whitewashed third-story office on Melrose failed to soften my agitation. Her questions, undeniably reasonable but direct, had gently nudged me towards a conclusion I'd hoped to avoid.

"_Why don't you tell __**him**__ instead of me?"_ Her expression neutral, I still hear the reproach in her voice. My therapist's piercing gray eyes and layered shoulder-length dark hair was in stark contrast to her casual turquoise slacks and form-fitting pineapple print long-sleeve tee. Her expensive heavy gold jewelry encircling neck and delicate wrists completed her 'don't-give-a-damn-rich-woman' style. The woman's waist was so tiny my immediate thought upon first meeting her had been 'and here's yet another serial-purger.'

"_Isabella, I wouldn't know where to begin."_ I shake my head sadly again as I recall more of our conversation, sluggishly stirring the sizzling chicken.

"_I can't even tell him I'm seeing you; how am I to tell him the rest of it?"_ I recall how defeated I felt as I said the words and even more so now, standing alone in our kitchen, staring at the wall.

"_Jasper, I never suggest anything I know a patient is incapable of doing,"_ Isabella finished primly.

I wasn't quick enough to control my grimace at her words, and she gave me a sheepish smile, immediately recognizing my reaction for what it was: reluctance.

Isabella was only trying to help me. In fact, I admired her for agreeing to see me at a steep reduction in her usual fees. She was a distant relative of the Swans to whom I'd been introduced during a charity event Edward and I had attended. We'd been invited only because I was their son Jacob's instructor.

Charming me, Isabella had asked for my insights on adolescent boys I had in my classes. We'd spoken at length about my general observations, and I felt comfortable with her. I had suspected she was filing away the information for later review with Charlie and Renee, but I'd been discreet, not naming their son Jacob specifically in our conversation. Smiling, I'd eventually asked for her card, anticipating calling her in the not-so-distant future if something didn't change between my partner and me.

It hadn't taken long to make the call. I'd carried that card in my wallet for a few weeks, dialing her number just before the Prop 8 decision was announced, my feelings jumbled and crashing around inside me. I'd been thinking too much about what a favorable ruling might mean for us. One session was all I'd planned to schedule with her. Today had been session number two.

I hadn't anticipated much from that first session, but her gently probing questions had unexpectedly released a tidal wave of emotion. Made worse perhaps, because I knew Edward couldn't guess at the depth of my feelings and conflict. On the surface, I was the perfect boyfriend—that was my demeanor around him. We rarely disagreed about anything, but then again rarely did I fully reveal too much to him. It was too risky. He loved me, and I had learned to be content with that.

Today was different: Isabella had tried to make me see the upside in telling Edward I wanted a defined future for us, but I was choking on asking him for it. We reviewed some possible outcomes if Edward discovered how I felt-suffocated, or maybe gagged would be more accurate.

I'd had to agree that none of the plausible reactions I imagined from him were as damaging as I had instinctively felt they would be for us. The exercise was both freeing and unsettling.

When my cell begins chiming, I see the stir fry needs attention again and take a moment to toss the chicken before snatching up my I-Phone, another gift from Edward who is calling me to report his ETA.

"What are you cooking? Need anything from Gelson's?"

It is tempting to suggest he stop in at the grocers to delay his return, but I can't play him like that.

"We're good—stir-fry again tonight. Do you mind?" I wonder if he can hear the exhaustion in my voice. Even so, he'd just assume it was the martial arts workout.

"Jigsaw, you sound tired. I'm home in about fifteen. Miss you." He hangs up without waiting for my reply.

I carefully set the phone on the kitchen table and return to my preparations. I'd mentioned the cousin Peter issue to Isabella today, looking for some way to deflect her other questions and maybe score a suggestion or two.

"_This is the first time you've mentioned Edward's mother, Jasper. Now she's suggesting that Peter move into the apartment you share with Edward?"_

I had a flash that perhaps my therapist's motivation in taking me on at a nominal fee was to learn more about the sometimes operatic life I led. Nah—her office was on Melrose Avenue—she had to have seen it all by now.

"_It would only be for a few weeks. But I've already told Edward it's a bad plan."_

"_What does Edward say about it?" _

"_He's torn-he hates disappointing his mother. I guess I should give in on this one."_

"_Are you sure that's what he wants? Are you being fair to Edward?"_

I thought carefully about her question and sheepishly conceded, _"I know his mother isn't the issue; it's me. I'm not always honest with him about what I want. What Elizabeth wants shouldn't influence us."_

"_Are you friendly with Elizabeth? Has she said she disapproves of you being Edward's partner?"_

"_Nothing's ever been said to my face. Edward didn't come out of the closet until his early twenties, just a few years before we met. I am his first boyfriend."_ I realized how pathetic 'boyfriend' sounds after living together for three years_. "She's never been unfriendly, really, but I've guessed she is just accepting the inevitable."_

"_Does Edward have a good rapport with your mother, or the other members of your family?" _

"_He's only spoken to my family via phone. We've never made a trip back to Texas, and they don't really travel. I've been back once, without him."_

I caught Isabella's lip curling just for an instant. But she wouldn't comment on it.

"_What about your friends, Emmett and Riley?"_

"_She doesn't like them very much. She's subtle about it, though. I've never tried to pin down her reasons until today."_

The stylish woman in the chair across from me dropped the edge of the embroidered pillow she'd been gripping unconsciously, her eyes friendly as she leaned in to me. _"Relations with a partner's family can be a challenge for anyone, Jasper. Have you tried to establish a closer bond with her?"_

Shifting uncomfortably, I was gratified when she seemed to remember she was in danger of invading my space. She eased back into her seat, grabbing her sketchpad and pen_. "Have you, Jasper?"_

Glancing at the clock, I see more than ten minutes have passed since Edward's call. Time to add the carrots—they'll take a few minutes longer than the rest of the vegetables.

Impulsively, I decide to act on Isabella's expensive advice today, beginning with telling Edward the easy stuff.

I snag a carrot chip before sweeping the remaining vegetables into the pan just as I hear Edward's key in the door. Eager to see him again, I head for the sound of his whistle of appreciation at the smells wafting in from the kitchen.

"Love your stir-fry chicken, baby," he greets me warmly.

I watch his hands carelessly release his work items into the deep woven basket just inside the apartment's entrance before coming to rest on my shoulders. I move close for a quick peck on his ruby lips; he takes a moment to savor our reunion and sinks into our kiss, pulling me tighter against him. "Food," I stutter against his mouth, hearing the pop of the oil as I resurface from the all-encompassing warmth that is an Edward hug.

"I'll wash up first," he offers. "We can talk while we eat if that's okay with you?"

My urge for the reassurance of his kiss satisfied, I agree and return to the kitchen to save our dinner.

Emerging from the bedroom in a pair of faded shorts, Edward is hungry. "Sit down, Jasper—tough day on the mats? Let's sit at the table for a change." His eyes tracking me, he none-the-less moves efficiently through the kitchen, gathering plates, knives, forks, and napkins as I fill a stem with wine for him, my mug of cider at my elbow. He serves me before slumping into his chair with a plate heaped with vegetables and chicken.

Chewing contentedly, I take a moment to survey my boyfriend. His chiseled, youthful features look a little soft around the edges with just a shadow of beard, signs of a long day seeing demanding patients. It hurts to see Edward has hints of dark circles under his normally smiling eyes, testament to the professional paper he is drafting in outline form late at night. If it's accepted for publication, he may be invited to make a presentation at his Society's conference in Venice in February. Unfortunately, while an exciting opportunity for us to visit Italy, it's also more stress on him.

"Slow down, Ed, you are inhaling the food," I chide. "Didn't you have lunch out today?"

"Listen mush-mouth: I'll slow down if you speed up. Not all of us have the discipline for twenty-chews-per-swallow," he teases me, a familiar refrain.

I clear my throat, a sign he knows means I have something to tell him. He looks up expectantly, setting his fork down. "Yes?" His hand drifts down to clasp my upper thigh and squeeze before running his fingers lightly along the inside of my leg. His other hand finds its way into his hair, smoothing it down before automatically fluffing it up, a tic he can't break.

"I was on Melrose Avenue today." Waiting for clarification, he says nothing.

"Do you remember meeting Isabella Swan, that divorced, petite woman from the charity fundraiser Jacob Swan's parents held in June?" I am only a little nervous now that I have begun, keeping my eyes fixed on my empty plate.

"The therapist? The one who looks like an older Emma Watson?" I nod. "Sure, so tiny and yet so vibrant in that room of wealthy, complacent people. Clumsy, too, as I recall. Didn't she spill her wine down the front of someone's dress?"

"Yeah, while she was otherwise occupied eye-fucking you."

"Never. I plead the Fifth."

"Right." I pause and steeling my nerves, start small. "I made an appointment with her. She offered me a reduced rate."

I chance a look up at him, catching sight of the surprise on his face before his professional, unruffled mask drops into place.

"So how was your first visit, or is it a session?"

"The first one went well; today was my second session with her."

Edward says nothing, waiting for me to continue. Such is my concentration it takes a minute before I register he has removed his hand from my leg.

"You haven't told me you were seeing a therapist," he says, his voice stiff.

Not knowing what to say next, I decide I've said enough. It's his turn.

Edward watches me closely as I look everywhere but at him.

"Is there anything you can share with me, Jasper?"

Understanding that he is respecting my status as a patient, I nod. "I've been in some turmoil about recent events and thought she might help me sort through it."

"Granted," he comments drily on my non-statement, wanting more.

Unfortunately, an unanticipated problem has arisen: I haven't thought through what to say next after making my great revelation.

Growling quietly in frustration, I make a_ comme ci, comme ca_ motion with my hand, and standing, leaving him sitting alone at the table.

Dejected and worn down, I drop heavily into the softly plump curves of the couch. Eventually, he follows me into the room and hesitates before sinking down beside me and draping an arm over the backrest. "Tell me, Baby," he whispers against my neck. "Is it me?"

"Never you," I answer automatically.

"Didn't you enjoy our overnight on Wednesday? You were moaning like you did. Many times, as I recall."

I feel the usual flare of resentment and anxiety when someone expects me to readily agree, and I don't. But this is Edward. I have to play fair with him.

"Can we change topics? I'm tired of talking about it. And Wednesday at La Playa was amazing. My ass is still sore, you hound."

"Sweet baby, Tanya caught me wincing yesterday afternoon and asked if I needed a massage!" He grins, sharing his response. _"Not that kind of a massage' _was on the tip of my tongue, but I held it in."

His weak joke is a welcome diversion; too bad my laugh sounds a little forced.

"Do you need any money for the visits, Jasper? If this wasn't your last session?"

"No money for now, thanks, honey," my answer deftly sidestepping his question. I nuzzle his cheek before asking, "What time tomorrow are we meeting Peter at Elizabeth's?"

"You can take a pass. He's my cousin. Go play softball with Emmett and Riley."

"Edward." He looks askance at my tone. "Peter isn't renting the spare bedroom. Elizabeth will try to guilt you into agreeing to take him in. Maybe I should come with you."

"No. She won't." Hearing my sigh, he answers me more honestly with, "She won't succeed if she tries."

Not exactly believing him, I shove him away from me, dissatisfied but not sure why. His voice urgent, he tries to distract me with, "And here I was about to divest you of your shirt, baby, not dwell on my family's problems," as his fingers tug ineffectually at the material bunched under my shoulders. I lean forward, and the shirt magically disappears over my head and the side of the couch.

"Umm, you were saying something?" My voice drops a register or two at the feeling of his silky hair skimming my chest as he licks down my neck, fingers tracing lines and hollows.

"Nothing much," he mutters as one hand slips into my hair, and a pair of lips lands hungrily on my nipple.

"Still tender…" I whine as he sucks the skin a little too insistently between his teeth.

"I'm sorry." Repentant, he lifts up and cups my chin, eyes fathomless pools of emerald. "God, Jasper, after spending the afternoon arguing with Elizabeth and Peter, I'll be a raging, crimson-eyed beast when I get home. At least you'll be spared my family's drama."

Perversely, I almost wish I was going with him. But instead I'll be spending the afternoon playing softball with Em and Rile. Like the good boyfriend that I am.

* * *

_**Sea-Tac 2008**_

Arriving in Seattle after what amounted to five hours of travel, Edward was beaming as he took in the hustle of passengers moving through the airport. He seemed to thrive on this type of energy; he'd acted much the same as we scurried through LAX, late again and nearly missing the flight.

"Let's get the rental car and check our directions quickly; I'm eager to see Leah and introduce you."

"And Alice," I chided him.

"Necessary evil; the sprite only manifests around my fellow Kwaiya healer."

"What?"

"Leah is part Quileute. She shared some Native legends with me during long shifts, and I retained some phrases."

The drive through Seattle to the suburb of Lynnwood takes about an hour; even concentrating on navigating the heavy traffic can't dispel his festive attitude as we draw closer to their neighborhood. I eagerly scan the area's terrain, looking for something different than the urban sprawl I see everyday around L.A. There's a little less concrete here, I notice.

"Are you ready for a hike through the Sitka Spruce on Saturday? We can take the ferry over to the Olympic Peninsula. I can't wait to show you Olympic National Park; I'm sure we can see it without driving all way into Port Angeles. We'll only be able to explore a fraction of it in the short amount of time we'll have here."

"Will Alice and Leah go hiking with us?"

Edward's expression is unreadable, but he makes a face. "Guess the girls would have to go."

"Wouldn't we be rude house guests if we ditched our hostesses for an all-day outdoor adventure?" Before he can respond, I casually ask if the Olympic Peninsula harbors any bears. Black bears, for instance?

"Probably?"

When he sees my face, he blushes, and offers, "But I had plans for pulling you into the woods."

His reaction is enough to trigger a really vivid image of exactly what we'd do hidden away among the world's oldest, tallest giants, a canopy of moss above us. Ed watches the transformation in my attitude, and flashes me a knowing smile. And thus ends my protests about the Park; I'll take my chances with the bears and other wildlife for time alone with him.

Thirty minutes later, Ed has piloted us directly to Leah and Alice's house, a celery-color two-story with large, white-framed windows and lush landscaping. It shines like a small, modest jewel through our rain-spotted windshield. I can see two women of uneven heights standing beneath a colorful golf umbrella.

"And there's Leah, waiting on the lawn for us!" Edward pulls into their drive and shutting down the engine, is out of the car and sprinting toward Leah before I've unbuckled and tugged my underwear back in place. I guess he's really missed her.

I take a moment to study the two women, the tall one clearly the object of Edward's rapt attentions. Edward's body language is the most relaxed I've ever seen him in a public setting as he struggles to close up the umbrella, the rain tapered off to a fine mist again.

Leah, lanky and fluid in her movements, has very long, straight midnight hair she wears in a loose braid. Her heritage is evident in her coloring and her features, complemented by a faded pair of jeans and a loose black tee. Definitely nothing butch about her. I can imagine her as a very efficient and caring G.P. at the Reservation's clinic. And a good friend to Edward.

Alice the sprite is aptly named. If Leah's hair color is midnight, Alice's shade is oil slick, with wisps that float around her head as she hops around excitedly. She is dressed rather oddly in a faded peach smock that I guess must be her version of Northwest chic. I notice she is smiling widely and following every movement and gesture the taller woman makes, clearly enthralled at seeing her wife so happy. Edward is rather pointedly ignoring her.

"Jasper, come on," Edward impatiently motions to me, standing by the rental, to join them. Head down, I trudge over the uneven yard to the waiting group. When I reach the three, I find Alice staring at me and Leah with arms held wide for a hug.

"I've heard so many good things about you, dear Jasper," she says, as she envelops me in her warm embrace, almost as tall as I am. I don't much like being squished up against a woman's boobs, but Leah is flat-chested, and I'm at ease with the hug. Alice has a more feminine figure, noticeable even in the gunny-sack outfit she is wearing, and we do a polite hug that barely has us touching.

I turn back to Leah to see she has wrapped her arms around Edward's waist and he is leaning into her, their faces inches apart, talking animatedly. It's a comfortable closeness, especially as his arm is resting on her shoulder. An irrational surge of jealousy assaults me, and I strike up a conversation with Alice to divert my speculative thoughts. Edward seems oblivious to my reaction, barely noticing me as the two of them troop into the house, leaving me alone with Alice on the lawn. She gives me a knowing look, pats my arm as if to say, "See what I put up with?" and asks if she can help with bags. I'm twice her size, and shoot her a look.

"Have it your way, boyfriend." When she observes my scowl deepen, she chortles with glee.

"It's always like this when they get together, Jasper. I'm the third wheel. But now, at last, I have a companion in my exile. Such a pretty one, too." She pauses before adding, "Edward hasn't ever brought anyone to meet us. You must have special talents." The smirk I see on her face is a friendly one, so I relax my guard a little, and head back to our rental car.

"Since you followed me out here, Alice, will you carry the presents we brought from home? I can manage everything else. Oh, and take these flowers," I say, handing her a bouquet of pink roses. "Edward picked them up at Sea-Tac for Leah and has forgotten to give them to her."

"Done and done."

For the first time, I wonder about the flowers and their significance.

Inside their house, Alice is once again my erstwhile hostess, checking I have everything we will need for a pleasant stay with them. I hear Edward's deep voice drifting in from the back yard as I unpack clothes and fill drawers for our three-day stay, Alice chatting away on the periphery of my activity. I'm relieved to see we have a queen-size bed, and our room is very cozy, with an attached bath.

"So how long have you and Edward been living together, Jasper?"

"A little more than a month. We've been dating for two months. Spent every day with him since our first lunch date." I smile self-consciously; even my mama doesn't know that detail.

"Can I get you a Diet Coke, or maybe some apple juice? You can go on out to the back porch with Leah and Edward. I'll bring you out your drink."

I decide with that comment that Alice likes me, and oddly enough, I'm drawn to her as well.

"Let's give them time to catch-up; I don't care to listen in on their shop talk. I'll sit with you for awhile."

Taking my arm, she nods in agreement, curling her hand around my elbow and steering me towards the kitchen. It's compact, but still very welcoming, just as I've found Alice to be.

She pours Coke over ice in Scooby-doo figure glasses for both of us, and suggests we walk outside to enjoy the views from their front yard. Their house is situated on a little knoll. I can see further to the horizon than I realized, even with the clouds. Alice tells me she and Leah usually drag chairs from the back when the weather is nice and enjoy watching their neighbors.

I know she is alone several days each week and ask how she copes with it, if it bothers her much.

"No. Sometimes I do feel as if a part of me is missing, but I accept that Leah has a dual purpose in working at the Clinic. Her work is so important, and it nourishes both her heart and her soul. I'm busy teaching music history and theory to groups of high school students at two schools during the days. Nights, I give private lessons on a piano you haven't seen in the third bedroom, so it's a good arrangement for us. When we are together, we have nothing to do but relax and be with each other."

"How long have you been married?" I'm curious about their relationship that works in spite of the travel arrangements.

"A decade this year. Doesn't that make us sound old?"

I glance up in amusement as Alice launches from her chair and begins to twirl like a child in denial on the grass. She starts to spin, her faded smock billowing around her, laughter bubbling up in her throat as she beckons me to join her.

'_Why not?'_ I think, and flinging out my arms, try to spin as fast as she is moving. Laughing and shouting like ten-year-olds, Alice starts to sway first, then falters, and screaming for help, loses her balance, takes a few steps, and falls to the uneven thick green carpet. I try to stop gracefully, but the world is still moving, and with a shout, I tumble down beside her, face first, ungainly to the end.

"Sheez! That felt good. Even if I'm ready to retch. Let's lie still for a minute." Alice is giggling and her joy is infectious. I'm chuckling and rolling onto my back in the damp grass, clutching my stomach and kneading my fingers over the muscles. If she pukes, I won't be able to prevent myself from joining her.

"What a pal you'd make if you lived nearby," she finally offers, both of us calmer and gazing up at the curling white clouds in the gray sky as a few drops begin to mark our clothes and faces.

"I feel like we already are, Alice. When my stomach stops churning, I'll show you some simple Tae Kwan Do moves. Have you ever done any mediation?"

"Only every morning for about twenty minutes. We can roll out mats tomorrow in the music room. But show me the Tae moves now, and then I'd like to see your forms," she offers shyly.

I'm pleased that she knows a little about Tae Kwan Do, and we fall into an easy conversation as we both work with students around the same ages and give private lessons to adults. The rain never develops and eventually, I take her hand and pull us both to our feet. She removes the scarf that is looped around her neck and belts it around her waist, the billowy smock transformed into a form fitting tunic. Seeing her shape reminds me again that she's a girl, not one of my boys. I'll have to be more physically aware of her differences.

"These are good beginner positions that help center you, Alice. I'll show you five of these to begin. Let's start with a bow to show respect. Hands and feet together, tilt forward at a forty-five degree angle, looking up at me." She performs the bow in my direction without being prompted. We are smiling at each other, and I'm having fun with this woman.

"First position. Follow my movements. These positions show your readiness for instruction. Spread your feet slightly, and fold your arms behind you, clasping your wrist at the small of your back, and make a fist. You are showing you are confident and alert." Alice is a good pupil.

Second position now. Snap your hands and feet together, arms along your sides, heels touching. Okay, go back to First position and now move smartly into Second position."

I don't need to prompt Alice to pay attention. I wish all my new pupils showed her concentration.

"Third position. Step out to your left, circle your arms in front of you, fists at belt level, and then snap them out in front, shoulders nice and straight." Alice practices this a few times, then moves through the three positions she has learned, perfecting the flow with each iteration.

She may not be a fashionista, but she makes an excellent listener.

"Now, Fourth position. Watch carefully as I step out with my left knee, back straight, bringing my knife hands forward to rest on my kneecap, eyes always focused on me." I demonstrate the smooth movement of the listening position and Alice mimics me, once again running through the sequence until she can perform it effortlessly without a wobble at the end.

Just as I begin demonstrating the Fifth, or sitting position, I hear Edward's voice from over my shoulder. Alice also breaks my gaze and begins to move. I bow to her, thank her formally, and then turn around to watch Edward descend the two steps from the front door holding hands again with Leah.

My good mood evaporates, and Alice seems to understand without seeing my face. "Leah," she calls, "Jasper has been showing me martial arts positions." She holds out her hand, and Leah lets go of Edward to stand close to Alice, complimenting her. They had been watching us for a few minutes from the door, neither of us noticing them in our focus on Alice's training.

Edward moves up behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist as he covers my hand in his. "Missed you," he mouths soothingly into my hair, lightly kissing the back of my head.

We didn't have time to make love last night, and were already late this morning for our flight; my cock springs to attention. It feels like we are the only two on the planet when Edward holds me like this, and I want more from him than hugs.

Looking at Alice for approval, I suggest we all catch some down time before we re-assemble for dinner. Alice laughs at us, a sweet trilling sound, and my affection for her grows.

"Leah, you've been monopolizing Edward, and they are like we were at the beginning."

Leah gives Edward a wide grin and making a shooing motion with her hands, tells us to rest before we get ready for dinner. They are taking us to the Ballard Locks later to watch the boats be moved between Puget Sound and Ship Canal. Later, the four of us will find a restaurant for fresh seafood.

"Meanwhile, Alice and I are making a run to the liquor store. We'll be gone an hour or so." I squeeze Edward's hand, stilling his body as I can sense he feels obligated to offer to go with them.

"We'll see you when you get back, Alice," I break-in before he can ruin it. "Maybe we'll clean-up before we go out while you are gone."

Alice nods and walks back in with us to retrieve someone's purse. We listen as the sounds of Leah's car grow fainter, and then Edward and I are alone in their house. I can't help thinking we can be as loud as we wish; there are no neighbors sharing a wall to hear our wails and moans.

"Nice work, baby. Run off my friend so we can have the use of her house for loud, noisy sex." But he's hiding a smile, and motions to me to jump into his arms and wrap my legs around him.

"I'm crazy like that, Ed. Are you carrying me into the shower, or just as far as the bed?" I ask as he kicks the bedroom door closed behind us.

"Shower."

"Aren't we taking off clothes first?"

"No."

I struggle a little, but we both know it's an act because I have to help him open the shower door after we kick off our shoes. Edward wastes no time in turning on the faucets full-blast, and in seconds, our clothes are drenched and dripping from the lukewarm spray. He lets me down carefully, and I pull him into a hungry kiss that leaves no doubt what I want.

Just as I drop to my knees to unbutton his jeans, he somehow manages to tilt me upside down by snaking his arms beneath my rib cage and rocking my hips back towards his chest. Laughing, I give up as Ed begins thoroughly soaping my denim-covered ass with the scented bar left out for us, hips swaying and singing loudly:

_I won't let you down;_

_I will not give you up; _

_Got to have some faith,_

_Jasper's the one good thing that I've got!_

_…_

_Take back your singing in the rain,_

_I just hope you know_

_Sometimes Jasper's clothes do not make the man._

After a few more belted stanzas, punctuated with some well-placed smacks when he gets to the "Freedom" chorus, I finally pull a handstand and break free of his grasp. Right side up again, I unzip my soapy Levi's and step nimbly out of my briefs and the heavy material as it pools around my ankles. It's time to shove a rapacious boyfriend back against the shower stall walls, and ask, "Now what, Ed-stein?"

"What?" He barely registers my comment, his focus not on my mouth one bit, his fingertips ghosting over the fine, curly hairs framing my dick before he makes the big plunge lower.

"Where are we going to hang our clothes out to dry, genius? On their outdoor furniture? It's drizzling again."

"I'm about to fuck you silly, and you're giving me the weather report? It's Seattle—think rain."

He's right, so I forget about drying off, just finish unbuttoning my clinging shirt and roll it as sensuously as possible off my shoulders and down my arms. Edward is watching my moves and breathing heavily from his earlier exertions, but his clothes are off and on the shower floor before I finish the slow-motion striptease.

I open the shower door, and walking backwards, end up dripping all over the uneven Saltillo tile floor, just out of his reach. He advances slowly, and I move back even further into the bedroom, tracking wet footprints on their carpet.

"I want to lick you dry, Jasper." His eyes are zeroed-in on my crotch.

"You can try, but you've a lot of skin to cover. I'm a big boy," and I demonstrate by stroking my erection a few times.

He growls softly, grabs a towel off the rack, and motions to the bedspread before lobbing it at my head. I deftly catch the flying missile and incautiously bending back over the bed, flip over quickly to try to protect the spread. But I'm not fast enough, and the sound of Edward moving through the air behind me whooshes past my ears before his body takes me down. _Damn!_

"I want to fuck you right now. Condom?" he asks, as he molds his groin into my ass, his intentions clear.

"Underneath the pillow with the lube," I groan softly as his palm fits around my cock, the head of his own digging a heated trench in my butt muscle before lodging between my cheeks.

"I was envisioning us doing this while I was talking shop with Leah on the back porch." His words ease a small edge I'd been ignoring. Covering me with his body, he slowly licks the moisture droplets from the back of my neck, planting soft, wet kisses as he makes good on his earlier promise. Emboldened, I propel my hips repeatedly back against the steady press of his thighs, keeping my shoulders down.

"Fuck, love it when you do that to me, Jasper. But turn over; I want to be able kiss away your tears when you cum for me."

When I twist back to face him, he roughly catches my ankles, spreading both of my legs wide to expose me to his appreciative murmurs. "Put the condom on me," he finally orders, eyes dark, desire coloring his voice. He watches me fumble with the circlet before my shaking fingers manage to roll it down his jutting length. He squirts some lube on his fingers, and coating my opening, whispers he just wants to push inside, no prep. "Do it," I urge him, whimpering at the sensations begat by his thumb flicking possessively over the sensitive skin behind my balls.

"You're butt is so beautiful, baby, so smooth and pale," he praises me, his hands caressing up and down the backs of my thighs to soothe me before he begins.

My legs fall open to the sides now in total abandon. He grunts with mingled pain and pleasure as he pinches the end of his cock before shoving the fleshy tip upward into me, the intimate invasion both harsh and exquisite as I gasp incoherently, "Stop, no, Edward…more."

"Jasper, oh, god, yeah that's good," he says, easing onto my chest to search out my mouth, nibbling hungrily over my lips. One hand wraps around my throat as he gently rocks his hips forward. Emotions play over his face too quickly for me to follow, and my vision narrows to his heavily lashed lids, eyes half-closed as he concentrates on the feel of me slowly accepting him.

Not until his sac rests snugly against my ass does Edward stop, tilting his pelvis up before he settles into the deep, measured thrusts of his lovemaking. His large, warm hands fit beneath the bend of my knees now, eyes fixed on me, mouth wide as his tongue lovingly tangles with mine. The torque of his hips is satisfying in its intensity; feeling him pull out and sink back in fuels the inferno building between us.

Needing to feel more of him, I rise up to meet his strokes, one hand on his thigh, desperately pulling him into me. He moans, and reaches back underneath us to cup my ass cheek, fingers splayed, gripping me tightly. Each thrust now fills me, and when I feel him close up the distance between us, and the short, frantic stabbing that signals he's ready to come, I relax my legs down along his, wanting to hold all of him. The sensation of his penis inside me, brushing against me quickly dissolves all thought as successive spikes of pleasure ripple up my spine.

"Edward, please," I plead against his mouth in warning as we writhe against each other; and in the hot, frenzied pace of our lovemaking, his belly grinding hard against my cock is all the friction I need. When he feels me jerking my release, it's too much for him. He loses his control and we both fall over the edge, ecstasy replete as he blows his load, and I shoot cum all over my stomach and him. It's an epic explosion and surrender, both of us in tune with the other's rhythms, succumbing to the delicate torture and pounding pleasure of a skilled Top making love to his willing partner.

When he's forced to move off of me, he rolls to his side, plucks the condom from his softening penis, and slinging an arm over my stomach, mumbles he really needs that nap. I so agree.

Sweaty and sticky though we are, neither one of us can summon the energy to leave the bed to retrieve a washcloth. Ed curls his legs up and reaches back for me to spoon him. I move in behind him, the air heavy and cool with the moisture from the outside thunderstorm. His light snoring eventually drowns out even the sound of the rain pelting against the windows.

* * *

**Present Day:**

Edward still isn't in bed when I awaken around midnight and wearily walk out of our bedroom to find him sitting at his desk, eyes closed.

"Edward, are you sleeping?" At the shake of his head, I laugh quietly, and urge him to come to bed with me.

"I'm done writing for tonight, babe. Can you undress me, please?" Moving up behind him, I tenderly remove his soiled shirt and start kneading the tense muscles in his back. It's late and I'd like to forget it, but his comment reminds me there's something I wanted to ask him earlier. "I've got a question, doc."

His eyes flip open as he turns back to stare at me. "Something simple, I hope. Muscle contractions, atypical drug reactions, and elapsed times are not topics I can bear thinking about for at least another twelve hours."

"Well, sort of a gay question, I guess."

"A gay doc question? I'm so tired, I can't even guess if I strung that sentence together in the proper sequence or not. Or did you mean a gay question for this doc? Which, Jasper?"

"Is cross-dressing always a sign of being gay?"

"Did I miss your new frock in our closet, baby?"

"No, _precious_, one of my students. I caught sight of him when I was coming out of Isabella Swan's office after my appointment."

He winces when I remind him of our earlier conversation, but is willing to wait for me to tell him more. It's another reason I love him. "Who was it?" he wants to know.

"His make-up and clothes were very natural. My eye was drawn to him because the 'girl' was so tall. I'm sure it was my best pupil, Jacob Swan."

"Charlie and Renee's son? Did he see you?"

"Maybe. He was at the end of the block and turned away when he noticed me walking toward him."

"Might not have been him; Isabella is an ex-in-law. It would be unorthodox for her to be seeing him professionally. And no, it's not definitive. Maybe he's going through something difficult or just likes wearing the clothes. He could go either way."

"Should I mention it to him? I've thought he was having some trouble. He's so gentle, Edward."

"Let me think about it, Jasper. It's a complicated issue, and you could be wrong about it being Jacob. If he's seeing Swan, then it's best if you say nothing."

I feel slightly off-balance; it's very unlike Edward to not have the answer on any given subject.

Stepping back from his chair as my partner stands and stretches before closing down his laptop and killing the lights, I find I'm hoping Edward will decide what I should do. I prefer to maintain some distance from my students, but Jacob's a teenager and my unacknowledged favorite. If there's anything I can do for him, I want to help. However, Edward is correct: my hands are tied until Jacob comes to me.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, alerting, etc. There's more to come from the Seattle trip. M.


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